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luveline · 3 months

Note

can I request something where Spencer is already with and married to y/n and the rest of the team has never known about her and one day they find out he’s married when she meets the team for the first time coming to bring him lunch maybe and the team is just taken aback after all the teasing they used to do to him because y/n is just so beautiful and flirty and they weren’t expecting any of it? And Spencer is just like “yeah I did that 👀😌💅🏼”

thank you for requesting !! hope this is okay, fem!reader

“I have something I need to tell you.”

Derek looks up from his desk with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t like the sounds of that.”

“I know you’re going to blow it out of proportion,” Spencer says, adjusting the strap of his watch where it lays over his sweater sleeve. “So I think I should tell you about it before she gets here with my lunch.”

Derek leans back in his chair and tosses the clipboard he’s ticking through into a pile of outgoings. “I’ll bite. ‘She’?”

Spencer holds his hands clasped in front of himself, looking cagey. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell the whole team, but it happened so quickly, and then I got it in my head that everyone would be mad at me or make fun of me and I didn’t want to deal with it so I didn’t tell you, and now it’s been a year and I kind of want to brag.” He ducks his head, scratches his neck, and refuses to meet Derek’s eye. “I wanted to tell you.”

“Reid, man, what are you talking about?” Derek feels himself soften. “I’m not mad at you, pretty boy. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“She’s over there,” Spencer says, pointing.

Derek follows his friend’s hand to you. You’re a lovely thing to look at because you’re smiling like you’ve never been happier, and you’re dressed in a simple, elegant sort of style that gives you a timeless feel, like you could’ve been in a romantic movie in the 50’s or just got back from walking the shiny streets of Paris. You aren’t his type at first glance, but you could be, the way you’re looking at him.

“Derek Morgan,” you say as you approach, your little black purse slipping down your shoulder, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, sweetheart, do I know you?” Derek asks.

You give Spencer a loving, sorry look. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Sorry! I tried, but you know. I was nervous and I kind of chickened out when you got here.”

You shift the white plastic bag you’re holding in two hands to the crook of one arm and beckon him into your side. “It’s fine,” you say, leaning upward to kiss his pale cheek, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I like introducing myself, you know that already.” You give him a last friendly pat before removing yourself, your hand just close enough to brush against his as you offer your name. “I’m Spencer’s wife,” you add.

Derek laughs, the low first chuckle of disbelief. Spencer’s watching him carefully, and he thinks, oh, maybe she’s not kidding. “His wife.”

“Yes,” you say, taking Spencer’s shoulder into your hand. You don’t seem to notice that he’s a good few inches taller than you. “And I’m so happy to meet you, you know? I’ve heard so much about you, about everyone! I realise we waited too long. S’gonna make sending you the registry pretty awkward.”

Spencer laughs. You look at him like he’s put the sun in the sky.

“Sorry, I don’t think I understand.”

You turn your hand to show Derek the gold wedding band on your marriage finger. “For a year, almost.”

There’s just no way.

Derek watches in quiet shock as Emily and Hotch descend the steps into the bullpen. “Hi,” Emily says, plainly confused.

“Hi,” you say, deferring to Spencer with an encouraging glance.

Spencer puts his arm behind your shoulder, and Derek realises loverboy isn’t lying after all. The way he touches you is too familiar, speaking to a longstanding sort of love. His thumb immediately rubs gentle semi-circles into the fabric of your cardigan, circles you likely can’t even feel. “This is Y/N, she’s… my wife. We got married.”

“And didn’t invite us,” Derek says.

“You what?” Emily asks, head snapping to the side.

Hotch is smiling at you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You knew?” Emily asks.

“It altered his health insurance,” Hotch says nonchalantly, stepping forward to shake your hand.

“I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Hotchner.” Your eyes are sparkling. Derek can understand why Spencer’s married you from that look alone; you look overjoyed to be here, and to be speaking to them. “And you too, Emily. I've heard amazing things about all of you.”

“Wait a minute, when did this happen? Wha–” Emily shakes her head. “I feel like I’m on reality television.”

You turn to Spencer again, your eyes following up his cheek, a caress of a gaze as you begin to tell the story, “Well, we met by accident by at Christmas market on Cassidy square trying to buy stamps for cards, so that was sort of our first date a year and two months ago, but we didn’t get married until February, so a year.”

“You got married after two months?” Emily asks, saving Derek the breath but not the sentiment.

You don’t so much as wince, nor does Spencer. “It might’ve been unfair to her for me to rush things, but it didn’t feel like rushing at the time,” Spencer says surely.

Derek knows that Hotch would’ve mentioned you months ago if you were nefarious. You certainly don’t seem nefarious, melting under Spencer’s touching, your almost frantic excitement to be meeting them quelled to a softer happiness.

“Do you have any photos?” Emily asks.

It’s Spencer who moves for his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He flicks it open and pulls a photo from the clear window, unfolding it to reveal a shiny six by four of the two of you outside of a courthouse. Your dress is white and silk, his tuxedo made to fit. You both look amazing, but better, you look so, so happy.

“This is the weirdest prank ever,” Emily says.

You lay your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

Spencer shuffles through a hundred shades of pink. Derek struggles to wrap his head around it, but he can’t wait to tell Penelope.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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magiccath · 5 months

Text

The Ring

tenth doctor x f!reader

Summary: In which the only way for you and the Doctor to get out of this one is a fake marriage. But how fake is it really?

You keeled over, your breath coming out in short pants. You weren't as good at this running thing as the Doctor was.

Sensing you weren’t behind him, the Doctor turned to check on you. You threw your thumb up, signaling that you were okay. You didn’t like the Doctor worrying about you.

“I’m sure we’ve lost them for now,” he assured, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was a nervous tick that he had.

“What are we going to do?” You asked once you had caught your breath. You allowed your legs to fold underneath you, sitting in the grass. The Doctor crouched down next to you.

It was supposed to be a nice vacation, a break from the hustle and bustle of time traveling. You had explicitly asked for a relaxing trip, one where you didn’t have to save the world or run for your life. You should have known that was never how it was with the Doctor.

Everything was fine at first. The alien town the Doctor had selected for your trip was throwing an elaborate festival. You were more than happy to partake in the dancing and sample the foreign foods. What you failed to notice was the ritual behind the festival. The village selected an unmarried woman each year to sacrifice to their gods. In retrospect, it wasn’t the weirdest ritual you had encountered over the years. What made it so uncomfortable was the fact they had selected you.

“I would rather not be a blood sacrifice,” you admitted, pushing your wayward hair out of your face.

“I won’t let that happen,” The Doctor said seriously, taking your hand gently. He had the duty of care, something that he didn’t take lightly.

“I’m not sure how much good we are against a whole village of bloodthirsty aliens,” you laughed, burying your head in your hands. You should have been scared, upset even. Instead, you found the whole thing funny. You supposed that was a side effect of traveling with the Doctor. Everything could always be worse, and everything in front of you could always be funny. You just had to frame it the right way.

“I have an idea,” the Doctor murmured. You looked up at him, confused. He only whispered things when he knew you wouldn’t like them.

“They only want to sacrifice you because you’re unmarried,” he stated. You stared at him, unsure of the point he was trying to make.

He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“I’m gonna need you to spell this one out for me,” you laughed lightly.

The Doctor swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing aggressively. “We could get married,” he said matter-of-factly, with the same tone he used to ask if you wanted tea or coffee in the morning.

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed. The Doctor swallowed again, his eyes diverting from yours.

You loved the Doctor, in every sense of the word. He was your home, your comfort. He was everything and more to you. But he only loved you as a friend, and you were more than willing to accept that love. It was better to love him like this than not at all.

“They can’t sacrifice you if we get married.”

“No, I got that part,” you rushed out, waving your hands about anxiously.

“You,” you sighed, pausing before continuing, “marry me?”

“To save your life, yes,” the Doctor said like it was the simplest thing in the world. He would walk to the ends of the universe for you. He had.

“Can we do that?” you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. The whole thing felt too good to be true.

“I can’t think of anyone else I would rather fake-marry,” he smiled, taking your hands in his again.

You grinned, the smile taking over your whole face. The Doctor loved it when you smiled like that. He loved it even more when he made you smile like that.

“Let’s get fake married!” you laughed, jumping up from the grass. The Doctor nodded in agreement, standing up next to you.

“How exactly…” you trailed off. “Are we going to get fake married?” The Doctor had a habit of making plans without a way to execute them.

It wasn’t like you could just walk into the village church and get married. You certainly couldn’t go back to the TARDIS, or that would have been the plan before suggesting a falsified marriage.

“There was a little cottage on the outskirts of town, we can hope that there’s an inhabitant there who can serve as a witness?” He suggested.

You couldn’t come up with a better idea so you agreed, following the Doctor as he walked off into the distance.

You tried not to read too much into the whole marriage thing. The Doctor was doing it to save your life, nothing more. Still, the mere idea of it left your skin tingling and your heart racing.

You were so lost in thought you hardly noticed the cottage creeping up on you until you were standing on the front steps.

The Doctor rapped his knuckles against the wood softly before stepping back. You waited in silence for a few moments. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What if this didn’t work?

The door flung open, revealing an old woman.

“What do you want?” She barked, clearly disturbed by the visit.

The Doctor cleared his throat, searching for his words. You frowned, he usually didn’t have any trouble talking to strangers.

“This is a bit of a strange request,” he laughed lightly, his hand drifting towards the back of his neck subconsciously.

“Spit it out, young man.”

You bit back a giggle. The Doctor was far from young, even if this face was youthful.

“We need a witness for our wedding,” he rushed, his words coming out in hurried clusters.

The woman remained silent for a moment, her eyes darting between the two of you. You could see hundreds of questions forming in her mind before she shook them away.

“I don’t want to know,” she murmured as she opened the door.

You exchanged a look of relief with the Time Lord before following her inside.

She bustled about her cottage, sorting things out while the two of you fiddled anxiously in the corner.

“Well, let's get on with it,” she finally sighed.

The Doctor nodded timidly, holding out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his, your fingers interlocking instantaneously. You had held hands hundreds of times, yet it felt different.

With his other hand, the Doctor rifled about in the pockets of his coat. You frowned, wondering what could possibly be in there. Did he really need a jammy dodger from the depths of his pocket right now? Finally, his hand slipped out of the pocket holding two silver rings.

“Why, on Earth, are you carrying around wedding bands?” you laughed. He only shrugged, handing the simple rings over to the old woman. She examined the objects in her hand wistfully, turning them over in her hand.

“I can’t say I’m a professional at this,” she warned. It didn’t really matter to either of you.

The Doctor took your other hand in his, standing face-to-face with you. You laughed at the domesticity of it.

“Do you,” the woman paused, looking at the Doctor.

“John Smith,” The Doctor smiled. You shook your head at his fake name. You had told him hundreds of times that he should change it. No one was really named John Smith, that's the kind of name you only ever found in books.

“Alright,” the woman said, not even blinking. “Do you, John Smith, take this woman to love and hold blah, blah, blah?” She finished, looking back to the Doctor. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were glued to you, studying every single aspect of your face. He never wanted to forget this moment. From your end of things, you were left with a sickly feeling that you had food on your face.

“I do,” He smiled brightly.

“And you?” she turned to you, repeating the process.

“Absolutely,” you grinned.

The woman handed you each a ring, which you placed on the other’s hand. You noted the slight shake in the Doctor’s hands as he slipped the silver band onto your finger.

You had always wanted to get married. Sure, you never imagined it like this. Standing in some random cottage in a pair of worn-out jeans exchanging wedding bands in order to save your life was never your plan. Even still, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“You may kiss the bride,” The old woman chided, looking at you two disapprovingly. You were so busy looking into the Doctor’s eyes that you completely forgot about the whole kissing part of getting married.

A scarlet flush overtook your face, but the Doctor pretended not to notice. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands gently, angling it upwards towards his. Slowly, he dipped his way down until his lips were inches away from yours.

You could feel his breath on your mouth, you noted each and every twitch of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as he eliminated the gap, his mouth crashing into yours.

He very well could have given you a chaste kiss, the kind you give your gran on Christmas Eve. Instead, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he had been thinking about kissing you for eons.

His mouth fit against yours perfectly. There was no other way to describe it.

He pulled away slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless. Your eyes remained closed for a moment, taking it all in. When they finally opened, you saw him. Your Doctor. The impossible, magnificent, loving creature in front of you. It was foolish to claim that such a being was yours alone, but you couldn’t see it any other way.

“Congratulations,” the old woman smiled, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, pushing your hair out of your face.

You didn’t keep the ring on long. A few days after your wedding it came off with the rest of your jewelry before bed. You just never put it back on. It was a fake wedding after all.

That didn’t mean that you threw it away though. Quite the opposite. The ring sat on your bedside table, occasionally glimmering in the light.

Sometimes, you would run your fingers over it before bed. You relished the idea of it all. The memory of his hands holding yours, the feeling of his lips on yours. It haunted you.

The Doctor, however, never took it off. Not after the wedding. Not before bed. Not when he fiddled with the wires under the TARDIS console.

You noticed this one evening, the dimmed lights of the control room catching on the polished metal.

“Why do you still wear that?” you asked, gesturing to the Doctor’s left hand. His eyes traveled to the band on his finger that he had been idly spinning.

“It’s my wedding band,” he shrugged as if it was as simple as that.

“I’m not sure you can call it that,” you laughed, “I’m not even sure our wedding was legal.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he frowned, still looking at the ring.

“I can take it off if it bothers you,” he suggested. He didn’t want to take it off, not ever. But if you wanted him to, he would.

“It doesn’t,” you whispered, staring at the space where your own ring used to be. The feeling of his lips came back to you, and you had to push it to the side.

“Did it mean nothing to you?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening you might have missed it.

“Not at all,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You don’t wear yours,” he commented, taking your left hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, not trusting yourself to meet his eye.

“You married me to save my life,” you stated.

“And?”

“It was a fake marriage.”

“Not to me,” he whispered, running his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes drifted up to his face. He was looking at your hand with a pained expression. For the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps the absence of your ring was upsetting to him. For so long, you had assumed that he just wanted to forget the whole thing.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I always wanted you to be my wife.”

You didn’t know what to say. For a minute, you hardly believed the words coming from his mouth.

“I always wanted you to be my husband,” you whispered, leaning in towards him. You paused, your breath bouncing off of his lips. It reminded you of your first kiss, the familiarity of it shocking.

You learned in and kissed him gently, a tender kiss to test the waters. You pulled away, unsure if this was what he wanted. The Doctor gripped your face, crashing his lips against yours in a much more urgent matter. You smiled against his mouth, melting into the kiss.

“My wife,” he chuckled between the kisses he planted all over your face.

“My husband.”

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #doctor who #fanfic #fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #david tennant #fake marriage

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pedros-mustache · 1 year

Text

good thing

word count: ~4k

warnings: smut (18+ only). also: established relationship, angst, non-planned pregnancy, implied sex-for-pay, age gap, language, x fem!reader

a/n: idk you guys. he is—as my middle schoolers would say—Him. it was bound to happen that i would write a pregnancy fic about this man. i will admit that i am weirdly nervous about sharing this fic so please be kind, friends✨🤗

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

“Whose?”

“Not yours.”

The room falls quiet, swollen with the ugly reality of your revelation. Your heart hangs in your chest. A clock on the shelf ticks each miserable second he does not respond.

Joel drums his fingers on the faded arm of the couch, his face blanketed by an unreadable shroud. He stares out the window, and you know he is thinking—wondering—calculating—when this happened. You cannot tell if he is hurt or angry or merely confused, but you can tell he is running the numbers. Running the myriad of possibilities of how you got knocked up under his watch. You could tell him—spill your slimy secrets on the creaking apartment floor like a parishioner at confession—but what good would that do? What would that change? Truth revealed or not, the fact remains:

You are pregnant, and whatever is blossoming between you and Joel, whatever tender flower has broken through cracked soil to find the light of day, the baby is not his. More than that, this development, this situation, marks the end of your budding connection. That glittering future you once saw with him, the future of safety and security at his side? Snipped at the bud, crushed beneath the heel of practicality. You can go no further. Not with him.

Across the apartment, the girl—Ellie—shuffles side to side. You glance at her over your shoulder and watch a wave of discomfort twist her smooth features. You sigh, dropping your arms from their position crossed over your chest.

“Come on, Joel. Now isn’t the time to ask questions. When Tess gets back with the guns, you and her have got to get Ellie out of here.”

Maybe it is something in your resolute tone of voice, or maybe it is reality crashing landing at his feet, but your comment breaks Joel’s attention from the window. He stands, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. He faces you, and that unreadable shroud falls from his face. He is angry, that much is clear.

He points to the apartment door. “Out.”

The blood in your veins slows, turned sluggish with the weight of your sudden anxiety. “What?” you breathe.

Shaking his head, his free hand comes to rest on his hip. You know the stance: he does it every time you insist on sharing tea in the morning or rubbing the tension from his sore muscles. He’s irritated, but not outraged. That alone is a reassuring sign.

“Not you. Her.” He gestures to Ellie. “Go wait in the hall.”

You start to protest. FEDRA on the move, Fireflies dispersed, night coming quickly—time is wasting. There’s no time for you and him and figuring this out, if that is what he wants. That ship has sailed and sunk beneath a bitter ocean of what-could-have-beens. There is only time for here and now and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

“Joel, I don’t—”

But his face softens as it so rarely ever does. He pulls his stare from the girl and turns his brown eyes—those damn puppy dog eyes—on you, and you are helpless. “Please,” he whispers.

The clock on the shelf ticks louder. Maybe you can steal a few minutes...

Without turning to face Ellie, you cock your head at the door in a silent dismissal. She releases an annoyed huff, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath about fucking adults before slamming the door behind her.

“Delightful child,” you murmur.

“She could save us all.”

Scoffing, you press your palms to the chipped table in the center of the apartment. The wood veneer is smooth, cool to the touch. It soothes your racing heart, even if only for a moment. “You’re starting to sound like Tess.”

Joel remains quiet—perhaps thoughtful, maybe biding his time—but his fixed stare carves gaping holes in the side of your head. You can feel him rooting through your mind like a scavenger. He is wondering when you slipped away long enough, when you found the time. He is replaying the moments in the market when you spoke to any other man and held his gaze for too long. He sifts through your shared memories with frantic fingers, and you can feel him—you know him well enough—to sense the panic swirling in his chest.

But for the first time in the three years you have known him, you do not have it in you to quiet the storm in his mind. You have your own tempest to battle.

Finally, he speaks. “You gonna look at me?”

The slow, deep timbre of Joel’s voice catches you off guard. You expected anger, shouting, frustration that boils over into rage. But Joel has always been gentle with you. Beneath the brusk of necessity, he is a true Southern gentleman. Just like his mama raised him. And even now, standing on the edge of the crumbling cliff where you have placed yourself, he treats you with nothing but respect.

God, you could love him. You really could. If only things were different.

You look away from the table and find him a step closer. Not close enough to touch. He is too angry for that; it is written in the shadow on his brow. But he is close enough that you can see the concern etched in the lines on his face. His frown is not at you, it is for you, and that makes looking at him all the harder.

“When did this happen?”

You shrug, eyes skittering to the floor. “I told you. It doesn’t matter. The details don’t matter.”

“Don’t they?” He has both hands on his hips now, his head tilted as he tries to catch your wandering gaze. “Come on, girl. Answer me. You owe me that.”

He’s right: you do owe him. You owe him so many times over it is impossible to count. Still, if he knew—if he truly knew... There would be no hope of repairing the damage you would cause. You would only split the torn earth on which you stand wider. The crumbling cliff would give way, and you would fall to your doom.

He reaches out. His fingers skim the rough hem of your flannel, his flannel. “Tell me, baby.” Those three words, choked out and brittle with desperation, snap your resolve in two.

You will lay your cards on the table, spread yourself across the sacrificial altar, bear your soul. For him—always for him.

Inhaling, you stand straight, bracing your socked-feet on the floor. You meet his eyes. If you’re going to go down for the decisions of your past, you’ll do it with your chin held high. Your father didn’t raise a quitter.

“Remember that battery, the one for the radio? The boots, the jacket?”

Joel nods. “For my birthday.”

You nod. “For your birthday.”

He holds your unwavering stare. The clock ticks: tick, tick, tick. Understanding rises like a slow tide over his face. You can’t bear to watch it. You look away. Shame gnaws at your stomach like a hungry wolf, and you press a hand to your belly.

“You didn’t—” He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth curling. “You didn’t have to...”

“I wanted to. For you.” Something catches in your throat. You circle the table, placing the furniture between his growing emotion and your growing regret. Fuck, you should have just stayed quiet. “So you could have one good thing.”

“But now you’re—”

“Pregnant.”

Tearing a hand through his hair, Joel twists. He faces the door, and you wonder if he is dreaming of escape just like you. You wonder if he is dreaming of a world where doves still fly and babies live past six months and men and women can afford to build a life together.

He presses a closed fist to his mouth. Light bounces off the cracked face of his wrist watch. “What are you going to do?”

You answer without hesitation. “Keep it.”

His neck turns so fast you swear you hear it crack. You would joke about his age if the situation weren’t so dire. Two nights ago you joked that he is old enough to be your uncle, maybe even your dad; he fucked you good when you said that, just to prove you wrong. That levity feels far away now, impossible to grasp should you even dare try.

“The likelihood of survival—”

“Is slim. For me and the baby, I know. But I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve even prayed about it. And I—” You blink away the warm tears rising to blur your vision. “I want this.”

“Why?”

Why? What a simple question. What a loaded answer. You don’t know where to begin. But he looks at you with such earnestness, such a craving to understand, that you have to at least try.

“I want a husband,” you say. When he frowns in confusion, you push onward, the words rising to your tongue like a sermon. “I want a child and a home. A life I can build and call my own. I may never have a husband or a true home, but with this child, no matter how it came to be…” You give a pitiful shrug of your shoulders. “I need something more, Joel. Something more than simply living to die.”

After a moment, when your words have settled like dust on a crowded roadway, Joel motions to your stomach. He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can—can I?”

“Yes.” You release the word on a stolen breath.

Rounding the table, Joel keeps his focus glued to your abdomen. His chest rises and falls, deep inhale after shallow exhale. He stands before you, a giant amongst men, his fingers shaking as he unbuttons the three lower buttons of his flannel. He brushes the fabric aside, and when your stomach is bare before him, he swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs as though he, too, feels a lump lodged in his throat. He smooths the palm of his hand over the slight bump at your womb. Barely there, blink and you miss it, but unmistakable once noticed.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see,” he murmurs. His thumb massages your ever-stretching skin, back and forth, back and forth. His warm breath fans your face as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“Because you didn’t want to.”

You pass your fingers through the graying hair at his temples and study the way his eyelashes fan his cheekbones. Little moments, you think, to be tucked away in your heart once this is all over and he is gone.

“When Kate was pregnant, I knew. Sarah... I could feel her...”

Your chin trembles, your fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know... I know...”

“A baby. In this world. I can’t remember the last time I—”

Without warning, he cuts his own thought short and slowly lowers himself to his knees. He presses one hand to the small of your back, the other still massaging the bump of your stomach. You hold your breath as he leans forward and touches your bump with his forehead. He whispers something, something you cannot hear and you suspect is not for you, and then he is standing. He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and when you meet his eyes, you see the world.

“Sugar, you are my good thing.”

I wanted to. For you. So you could have one good thing.

His words—your words—ring loud in your ear, and you choke on a sob as he lowers his mouth to yours. He kisses you like the rain kisses dry land. You are parched, cracked and withered from the fear of this moment, but with his touch, he waters your aching heart. He is eager, holding you close, cradling your jaw with the wide expanse of his hand. Never before, not in the year of sharing his bed, has he kissed you with such devotion coating his lips. You could drown in it.

You tear your mouth away long enough to look over your shoulder. The door to the apartment remains shut, a measly separation between you and the outside world. “The girl—”

Joel shakes his head, already working on the remaining buttons of your flannel. “She doesn’t matter.” He kisses your neck, once, twice, creating a wet trail to your earlobe. “Not right now.”

“Okay.” You turn back to him, your face softening as you catch his dark eyes.

He nudges your nose with the end of his own. “Okay.”

Words dissipate. Like fresh dew beneath the morning sun, the need for talking disappears under the weight of all that is and was and could be. There is nothing more to say—not aloud, not right now—but there is much, oh so much, your body can say for you.

You kiss Joel with a fierceness you have not felt since the first time he laid his hands upon you. You are desperate for him, desperate to tell him just why you did what you did, and how much you need him, want him, fuck—maybe even love him. You part your lips to allow him access, and you cling to his arms, your nails biting the flesh beneath his denim shirt. He hisses when you bite his lower lip, the hand still resting in the small of your back pushing you closer to his warmth. You tangle your arms around his shoulders, holding him closer, closer, as close as he can get without forcing him to merge into your own skin.

With a quiet grunt, he fists his hand in the hair at the back of your head and wrenches to the side. You gasp, eyes widening as he flattens his tongue against your pulse point. He sucks your skin, biting gently, before releasing your neck with a wet pop. You whimper—even as he takes your chin in his fingers again and seals his mouth to yours.

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink fully into the kiss. You do not know what the future holds or what will become of you and the child within. All you know is that here, in the now, in the present, Joel kisses you, and sweeps his tongue across your tongue, and runs his hand down the inside of your jeans to cup your ass. And for right now, in the here and the present, you are okay and you are safe and the risk of being with him is worth the reward.

He squeezes the flesh of your ass again, and you shake yourself free of any wayward thinking. Just him—just you—just now.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers against your lips. “Mine.”

You nod, and through laboring breaths, you confirm what has always been the truth. “Yours.”

It is a backwards, lopsided dance to the only bed in the apartment. He collapses to the edge, and you straddle his thigh as you kiss him. His broad hands run the course of your body, up and down, front and back. He massages your breasts through the paltry fabric you call a bra, pausing long enough to tweak a nipple hard enough you whine. He chuckles, leans forward, sucks the offended nub through the covering. You go to shrug off his flannel, but Joel stops you with a hand to your arm.

“No.” His eyes roam from your face to your shoulders to your peaked nipples and finally, the swollen womb above your center. “Keep it on.”

He leans back on his palms as you unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. The zipper of his jeans strains against his growing erection. You peel your underwear off and face him with a smirk.

“You’re overdressed.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Maybe.”

“We should fix that.”

He waves his hand in invitation. “Be my guest.”

Biting your lower lip to conceal a grin, you pounce, zealous for him as much as he is for you. His clothes come off in quick succession until you are both naked save for his flannel hanging loose around your shoulders. He pauses then, a second, maybe two, his hand poised against the side of your neck. His eyes dart between yours, his lips parted, words he dare not say resting on the tip of his tongue.

“I know, baby.” You put one hand on his shoulder, his warm, tan skin a comfort against the chill in the room. You reach out and grip his hard cock with your opposite hand, and when he winces in pleasure, you brush your knuckles over the hair on his jaw. “I know.”

Joel allows you to stroke him, a rare occurrence in your repertoire of fucks. What is normally a frenzied connection in the dark, moments stolen before the light of day brings reality crashing back, is turned slow by the knowledge that things are different now. Things cannot be as they once were, no matter what the future may bring. So you stroke his cock, spit in your hand, and stroke it faster. Up and down, until he is pulsing in your hand and weeping from the tip. He drops to his back on the bed, his face buried in his hands as you touch him.

But then you pull away.

Joel removes his hands from his face. He stares at you, a flash of annoyance brightening his eyes. “What—”

“Shh.” You plant both hands on his sturdy chest as you swing your leg over his hips. “Walls are thin.”

Gripping the base of his cock, you run your dripping warmth over his tip. You hover above him, eyes rolling back in your head as you tease yourself. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body, and you grit your teeth to keep from moaning. Joel grabs your hips, but he does not force you down. No, he waits until you are ready. He waits until you position his cock at your entrance and begin the slow descent to heavenly madness.

You suck in a deep breath as his cock stretches you open. He fits snug in your core, like he was crafted just for you. When you have adjusted to his girth, you move your hands to grip his arms. You shift your knees, lifting your hips up before descending again. Over and over, a smooth, unchanging rhythm.

You are in no hurry to find release. For once this fuck is more than finding a shot of pleasure amidst the cruel darkness of the world. You want this to last and you want this to feel good. You need this imprinted upon your mind, locked in the secret place of your heart.

But you and he both can only take the slowness for so long.

Joel soon resumes his position of dominance, as is custom when his need builds. You allow it because you crave it. His breadth and strength and command shields you from danger in the outside world, but you crave it in bed too, when you can allow that breadth and strength and command to slam the fear from your mind.

He slides an arm around your waist and flips you to your back, keeping you snug beneath him. He gives a few experimental thrusts before he kisses you—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. He leans back and exposes your body to the yellow light of the room. He trails his hand down your sweaty chest. His fingers dance over your bump, hovering there as if in prayer, before finding your swollen clit. You gasp, hips lifting upward, as he rubs you in circle after circle. He brings you to the edge before pulling away and gripping your shins with his hands. He pushes forward, and you are bent in half, completely at his mercy.

Holding your knees to your chest, he picks up the pace. He plows into you, teeth gritted, lips pulled back in a snarl. He watches his rigid length split you apart, thrust after thrust. On some level, you know he is staking his claim. He drives into you with such force, with such feral carnality, you know there is some part of him that just wants to mark his territory. Reclaim what is rightfully his. You let him because it is true. You belong to him, Joel Miller, not the man who planted his seed in you and walked away. Always and forever—his—your purpose.

You slap your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out in delicious agony. You feel stretched and full and electric all at once.

“That’s it.” Joel releases your shins but presses his chest to your legs. Your hips lift, swallowing him to the hilt. “Take me—fuckin’—good.”

The pressure in your core builds. Light dances at the fringes of your touch. You close your eyes, latching on to the feeling.

Leaning back, Joel swats your hip. “Open your eyes.” He withdraws his cock far enough to slam into you with more force, his tip angled against your most sensitive spot. “Look at me.” He swats your ass again.

Dutifully, you peel your eyes open. You look at him—into his eyes, his soul—as he fucks you.

You burst like the skin of a ripe grape. It is violent, sudden, earth-shattering. You convulse beneath him, and the tremors wracking your frame are enough to send him over the edge. He grabs the curve of your waist with one hand, lurching forward to catch himself on his forearm above your head. He swallows his groan of pleasure, managing to barely release a muffled whimper. His warmth oozes from your core and stains the bed sheets beneath.

He remains tucked inside of you until you are forced to push him away. A cramp in your leg demands attention, and you rub the blasted muscle until the pain has subsided. You return to his side, to his sweaty body, to his arm that slips beneath his flannel and lays beneath your back. He rolls to his side to face you.

The truth of your situation looms like a storm cloud at the edge of the room. He can see it; you can see it. You must acknowledge it before the here and now is upon you and you have no plan with which to fight it.

“What are we gonna do?” You hold his forearm, thumb brushing the bone of his wrist. His hand is warm and heavy on your cheek, his eyes married to yours.

He does not hesitate. “I’ll keep you safe. Both of you. All of you.” He smooths the sweat-plastered hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You nod because Joel Miller always keeps his promises. Whatever he says is true.

He relaxes his hold on your face as he shifts onto his back. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing even. You glance at him and the evening light that cuts his face in angular shadows.

“Hey, Joel?”

He opens one eye, peers at you in expectation.

You smile—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. “You’re my good thing, too.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #hbo the last of us

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fleurrreads · 3 months

Note

hi hi hi! could you write something for charles leclerc x single!mom!reader? maybe her son ( or daughter or both ) both him for the first time and they're all protective over their mom, and she has to leave them alone for sometime and when she finds them they're bonding? this probably does not make sense but oh well have something to eat and some water if you haven't in the last hour! and can i be 🎧 anon, if it isn't taken already? my pronouns are she/her and i'm 18!

an: i had a lot of fun writing this one, and i think it has a special place in my heart forever ♡ i’ll add you to the list! welcome lovely 💫

You’ve been seeing Charles for about four months now. In that time you haven’t introduced him to your son — Cody, who is seven. You were worried about him meeting your boyfriends and them leaving, which would mean they also leave him behind. So none of your boyfriends have ever met Cody.

Charles knows about Cody though, and vice versa. You’re currently dressing up to go out on a date with Charles as Cody sits on your bed, little feet dangling from the side. “You look so pretty mommy. Are you going on a date today?” The little boy rubs his eyes, visibly exhausted from the day. He has a lot of energy during the day and then he winds down and passes out by nine. He’s a lot like you in that sense.

You sit down on your bed next to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Thank you baby. Yes I’m going on a date with Charles today. He’ll be here soon to pick me up.” You see the gears turning in his little head, and he meets your eyes. “Do you trust him?” He asks, fiddling with the hem of your dress. A nervous tick he got from you no doubt.

“Yes angel, I trust him more than anyone. Do you want to meet him and see for yourself?” The only way Cody will be less worried about you is if he met Charles and saw for himself that he was a good guy. He nods, gathering himself up and running to the living room where Scooby Doo is playing on the tv, the babysitter that you got for tonight was still on the way so you wouldn’t be able to leave before she arrived.

You hear the distinctive sound of Charles’ car coming to a stop in-front of your house when you see Cody’s head shoot up, looking through the curtain at the car that stopped in front. “Woah” You hear him softly whisper to nobody in particular. You smile , making your way towards the front door to let Charles inside.

Charles looks absolutely incredible, not too fancy and not too casual. He kisses you on the cheek, aware of the little boy now sitting on the couch looking warily at him. “Hello my love, are you nearly ready to go?” He looks at Cody, smiling at him. “Hello Cody. It’s nice to officially meet you.” he shakes the little boy’s hand.

Cody smiles softly, “It’s nice to meet you, uncle Charles.” Your heart warms at the smile on Charles’ face. You walk to the bedroom. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I just need to finish getting ready.” You sit down at your vanity, trying to finish your makeup as fast as you can to not leave Cody with Charles too long. You know Cody isn’t always comfortable at first with people, and you don’t want him to feel like that with Charles.

In the living room Charles hunches down to Cody’s level. “What’s wrong Cody? Did I do something wrong?” He wants to make a good impression on him, because he sees you and him being together for a long time. Cody looks at him with big eyes. “Do you really like my mommy?”

Charles’ heart aches as he looks at Cody. He’s trying to protect your feelings before you can get hurt. He’s probably seen you come back from other dates either absolutely exhausted or crying.Charles realises that Cody just doesn’t want you to go through that again.

Tears are now prominent on the little boy’s waterline as Charles gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I love your mom. She’s an incredible woman and I’d like to spend a long time making her happy. She means a lot to me, you know. And I’d like to make you happy too. I was thinking that we could go on a drive tomorrow if you’d like. We can go get ice cream and stop by any shop you want.” Charles notices the hint of excitement in Cody’s eyes. He also sees the relief in the little boy’s face, hearing Charles speak so lovingly about his mom.

Cody grins at him, “I’d love to! Your car is really cool. Does it go really fast?” Question after question falls from the little boy’s mouth, his excitement not contained anymore. Charles chuckles, sitting down on the couch next to Cody, answering every question he’s got.

You finally emerge out of the bedroom, hair done nicely, makeup finished as you make your way to the living room where you find no Charles and no Cody. How odd. As you begin searching you hear giggles coming from the kitchen and your heart swells at the image you see as you peek around the corner.

Cody’s sitting on the counter, a pancake in his mouth, laughing at Charles who’s attempting to flip the pan expertly as to flip the pancake around. He failed miserably as the pancake misses the pan and splats on the floor. Cody laughs loudly. “You’re so silly Charlie.”

A nickname. Cody gave Charles a nickname. You feel your heart ache as you smile at them. Charles has a faint flush to his cheeks when he spots you in the hallway, a smile on your face. “What’s going on in here? Are you burning my house down, Cha?” Cody turns his head to you, still happily snacking on a pancake that didn’t fall to the floor. “We’re making pancakes! Do you want one mommy?” Cody offers you a plate with a smiley-faced pancake and you can’t help but laugh. “Sure, thank you baby.” You sit down at the counter, enjoying the moment with them.

Charles made you call the babysitter to cancel. “Why would we go anywhere else when this is where I could only dream to be.” He took your hand as you’re now sitting on the couch. Cody sitting on his other side, you see Charles holding his hand as well. Your heart swells at the image, and you realise that this was what you’d dreamed of as a little girl. A perfect family.

“We can go on a date another day this week. This moment is more important.” Charles whispers, giving you a small kiss and continuing to watch the cartoons on tv.

You realise that this is how you’d be able to spend forever. With them. With Charles.

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ★

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x single!mom!reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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xob1tchs · 3 months

Text

| mutual help ; l. berkshire

genre; smut 😜

warnings; bickering, NOT e2l sorry every1!!, no actual sex, mentions of blowjob, food play (?), oral (f receiving), public sex, fingering, dirty talk, name calling (baby, honey bc that’s readers nn and babe)

a/n; idk i saw these pics on pinterest and thought they were cute and then i just got to thinking abt how i could make smth and use them and yeahhhhh — but i actually like this a lot so im thinking this isn’t the end 😅😅 pt.2 maybeee

playlist; meddle about by chase atlantic, single by the neighborhood, cry baby by the neighborhood.

You smile around the ice cream filling your jaw, cheeks puffing out in a way that makes enzo's pants grow tighter, some of the pinkish-white cream dribbling from the corners of your mouth, making a mess that stains the pristine collar of your dress shirt.

He toys with the mechanical pencil in his grasp, running it along the seam of his lips, pressing them into a cat-like grin when you look up at him over the top of your textbook, eyes turning to crescents when your grin widens. Your book thumps against the table when you lean forward, caught between your chest and the hardwood, making you stutter over whatever you were gonna say, shiny lips falling into a confused pout, blinking down at the pages before you roll your eyes, nudging it to the floor with your elbow, letting it clatter against the wood without a care.

“You’re going to get us in trouble – ” Lorenzo warns, watching as the ice cream cone in your hand melts over your knuckles, seeping into the cuffs of your cardigan, forming sticky lines between your knuckles “Finish that, or i’ll throw it away.” he finishes, arching a perfectly trimmed brow as you bring the strawberry cream to your lips again, licking a thick strip from the base of the cone to the top of the cream.

You hum in satisfaction, ready to bring the cone back for another lick, when a group of students brushes past, one of their shoes knocking the back of your chair, grip on the come loosening for a moment before it topples from your fingers and lands in the crevice of your thighs. You gasp, scowling at the fifth years as they giggle, rushing around a corner.

“God damn it, honey” enzo growls deep under his breath, snapping his book shut, making you flinch as you look up at him from the mess between your thighs. Your brows draw together in confusion, used to hearing the nick name in a more saccharine tone. This wasn’t your fault.

You tilt your head “they bumped into me!” you whisper yell, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together, only spreading the sticky mess further.

Frowning he scoots his chair back, leaning back enough to see the drying ice cream, something straight out of wet dream as you spread your thighs, chasing some sort of relief from the uncomfortable feeling - he can see your white panties, delicate lace trim along the edges and a cute little with bow just below your navel.

“You’ve made a fucking mess” his tone is annoyed, shoulders tensing as you gaze into his puppy like eyes, puffy lips parting in a pout once again.

This has been torture – weeks of tutoring you, dealing with the innocent pouts and whines, begging him to just lie to professor snape for you. Games of on and off, that he knows he’s definitely winning, because you were practically begging for his cock a fortnight ago. He’s thought about you so many times – thought about beating the shit out of the guys that talk about you.

He can’t fucking take it anymore, cock throbbing in his boxers as you squirm around in your chair, huffing out delicate breaths, wide eyes turned glassy – you look like you might even cry, and makes him tick, knuckles pale from how tightly his fists clench against the smooth hard wood table.

Gripping the table with one hand, and the hem of your skirt with the other, you sigh “I can clean it up enzo” you plead, nervous as he shifts in his chair, tugging the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms.

The whole library falls silent when he looks at you, rasping out a command that makes your eyes go wide “spread your legs” he mumbles. He drops to his knees not a moment sooner, brunette head of hair disappearing under the table, the drag of his chair back to the table making you gasp.

Fingers wrap around your ankles, forcing your legs apart, unveiling your clothed pussy to his sparkling eyes when your skirt rides up your thighs, the fabric is damp and stained with strawberry ice cream, molding your warm folds to the cotton, puffy pussy straining for attention against the threads. He blows out a soft breath between puckered lips, chuckling hotly when you squirm, thighs trembling against his strength.

“Lorenzo — we’ll be caught” you whisper, glassy eyes meeting his own dark ones, a gentle blush spread across the bridge of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. He tuts, leaning forward just enough for his nose to rub your clit, breathing in the musky-sweet scent emitting from your core.

“You don’t want me to help you out?” He murmurs, tongue darting out to lick a stripe along your seam, planting a wet kiss against your hole as one of his hands creep up the inseam of your thigh, toying with the outer hem of your panties.

You sigh, cradling your face in your palms, unable to voice the denial you thought you had wanted to say, overwhelmed by the heat from his breath ghosting your cunt.

“be a good girl and keep quiet” he mutters, peeking up at your flushed face between your fingers before he tugs your panties to the side, the threads snapping under the pressure, ripping the crotch right out of them, ruined as they fall to the floor.

he takes his time, as he leans in, eyelids fluttering closed, jaw hanging slack – pressing an open mouth kiss to your spread folds, humming in delight at the sticky slick seeping from your core, pressing in deeper for more, nails digging crescents into your sticky thighs.

his tongue toys at your entrance, the warm muscle prodding your tight walls until you let out the softest wine from above him, hips bucking forward against his face, pressing his nose into your clit.

“s’fucking good” he mouths against your cunt, shaking his face side to side, making your squirm against the wooden chair, thighs threatening to squeeze around his head if he were to let go.

“shit- enzo '' you chirp, drooping eyes casting a weary look around the library, despite knowing your meticulously tucked away study corner is shielded from most prying eyes.

one of his hands drifts from the inseam of your thigh, to the top of your pussy, pulling the hood up so he can wrap his puffy lips around your clit, gently tugging on the nub with his teeth, before giving it a lewd suck, slurping and smacking sounding from between your legs - he’s the one being fucking loud.

his other hand glides down your pussy as he pulls away, spreading your folds to watch your greedy hole wink, pulsing for something to fill you up - seeping wetness that runs down your asshole and the wooden chair, staining the hardwood floor below you even further.

he groans as he presses the pad of his middle finger to your pussy, watching as you suck him in, gliding to the second knuckle with ease “you can take more than that, can’t you baby?” you hum from above him, thighs spreading further in a silent agreement, etching a wicked grin across his lips.

he slides a second finger in with ease, cock jumping in his trousers when he feels the suction of your velvet walls around his thick fingers, clenching around him with need even when he doesn’t make a move.

when he leans in to flick your clit, your thighs clamp around his head, one hand tangling in the hair the crown of his skull, the other gripping the edge of a textbook so harshly you fear the pages will rip.

he groans against your heat, eyelids rolling back in his skull as he makes harsh thrusts in and out with his fingers, alternating between quick sucks and nips at your swollen bud, the weight of his cock in his boxers becoming unbearably heavy with every jut of your hips against his face, precum making his boxers stick to his length in an uncomfortable manner.

“m’so close enzo, baby please” you croon, leaning back in your chair to lock eyes with him, tears brimming at your lash line as you press a palm to your mouth, muffling the sounds that multiply with every passing second.

he doesn’t stop at your confession, the words spurring him on, desperate to swallow your cum and taste it on his tongue for hours to come, cock twitching at just the thought alone.

his hand drives into you with so much force that wet smacking sounds start to ring out, so fast and frequent that if anyone were near they’d surely know what you were up to.

it’s only a couple seconds later that you’re falling apart on his fingers, thighs squeezing around him so tightly that he begins to go lightheaded, surely not helped by the way he desperately laps at your seeping cunt like a man starved, groaning and moaning into your folds until he’s satiated, and your hips are squirming away from his mouth, pussy swollen and sensitive against the cool air of the library when he finally does pull back.

you look down at him through a bleary gaze, flushing at the sight, covered in a mix of sweat, cum and strawberry ice cream, smeared along his jaw and across the tip of his nose, you lick your lips, shaking your head when he meets your eyes “now we’ve both made messes” you mumble, using the cuff of your sweater to wipe some of the liquid from his face, glancing between his legs to where his cock strains against the zipper.

“now i should help you then, right?”

#lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire smut #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys smut #harry potter smut #fanfic #fanfic smut #slytherin smut

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suashii · 5 months

Text

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒮𝒜𝐹𝐸𝒯𝒴 𝒩𝐸𝒯

info ⭑ suna rintaro x reader. 1.3k wc. sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ spider-man!suna

note ⭑ i cannot stop thinking about spider!suna !! possibly expect a few more drabbles in this au :3

you’re toeing the line between wakefulness and slumber; about to slip into dreamland but lucid enough to hear the tick… tick… tick… of the alarm clock situated on your beside table. the rhythmic sound begins to grow distant the deeper into the sleep you fall.

and before you actually drift off, you’re jolted awake by a noisy bang! at your window. the sound rips a startled scream from your throat as you scramble to sit up. the comforter bunched up in your fists is held up to your face to shield you from whatever just slammed into your window. you peer over the top of your flimsy safeguard, hoping that the source of the jarring noise is long gone.

unfortunately for you, it isn’t. although, there’s no reason for you to be so nervous anymore.

you recognize the glimpse of black and white haphazardly swinging at the corner of your window. rubbing your tired eyes with a sigh, you toss your blanket aside and leave the warm comfort of your bed to approach the glass.

you’re met with a groan of pain and some muffled swears when you reach your destination. your lips wobble, threatening to break out into a grin upon hearing the familiar voice.

the clicks of your window unlocking sound throughout the quiet of your room before you lift up the pane. a chilly draft enters the space and goosebumps raise on your arms almost immediately. you ignore the unpleasant sensation in favor of greeting your clumsy, untimely visitor. “did you seriously just swing straight into my window?”

regaining his balance, suna perches himself on the concrete lip of your window. with one hand by his feet to keep steady, he uses the other to snatch the black mask off his head. strands of dark hair stick up in different directions and it takes a moment for his grayish-yellow eyes to adjust to his normal vision outside the mask. when it finally does, he’s met your face, the corner of your lips twitching with a smile. somehow it makes him feel less embarrassed—but only a little. “i meant to land on the ledge but i came in too fast.”

“if you’re all this city has to rely on as a hero, we’re doomed.” you only mean it as a joke, you know that and so does suna, but he still feigns hurt at your comment, poking out his lip in a pout. he’s mastered the kicked puppy expression but you only offer him a sickeningly sweet smile in response. you jerk your thumb behind you as you take a few steps back to allow him some space. “come in, you’re making my room cold.”

he does as you say, climbing into your window much more gracefully than he had arrived. he closes it behind him as you scurry back to the warmth of your bed. you’re busy getting comfortable under your blanket when suna plops down beside you. you’d chastise him for lying on your bedding in his suit that’s been who knows where, but there’s something more pressing at the forefront of your mind. “what brings you here so late? you’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“would you kiss it better if i was?” he asks, his eyes flitting over to meet yours. his tone is entirely serious but it’s accompanied by a grin that tells you he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.

you’re tempted to shut him down, just so he isn’t allowed the satisfaction he’s so desperately seeking, but the more you consider his question, the more you think about his circumstances.

this role of superhero, protector, defender, was thrust on him without his say—against his will. the once normal college student who played volleyball and video games in his free time now risks his life every day so the people around him stay safe. he downplays the danger he faces and you try not to show that you worry for him but you do.

you don’t know what you’d do with yourself if he ended up hurt.

so, even if he came to you with some minor injury like a bruised cheek or a split lip or a sprained ankle, you’d do anything in your power to make him feel better—even if that remedy was a kiss.

rolling onto your side so you’re facing him, you prop your chin in the palm of your hand. suna’s gaze is still glued to you and you challenge it with a stare of your own. “you know what? i would.”

the curl of the corners of his lips falls upon hearing your unforeseen reply. a weird feeling overcomes him, too. he can feel his heart rate pick up and can hear the ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump of the organ in his ears. the closest he’s felt to this sensation before is when he’s soaring through the air evading villains and crooks. but those are real threats and you’re the farthest thing from it. you’re his safety net, there to catch him whenever he feels himself falling.

why is he falling now?

he blinks and clears his throat. “what?”

“i said i would kiss it better if you were hurt.” you proudly tell him, sporting the smile of someone who beat the master at their own game. it isn’t often you render suna speechless and a sense of satisfaction washes over you knowing that you were able to do so by simply saying something you meant.

it’s difficult to see him in the dark of your room but you do pick up on the way his fingers nervously tap at his stomach and how he’s mindlessly chewing on the inside of his cheek. he isn’t looking at you anymore, either. you wonder what’s going on in his head, what thoughts are swimming in his skull. outside of his joking, he tends to keep a lot to himself.

you suspect he’s doing that much now. between his uncharacteristic silence and the fact that he never told you why he dropped in, you think it might be something he isn’t quite ready to share yet. it’s not something you’ll ever hold against him and if you’re the comfort he seeks after a long day, you don’t want to ruin that by pushing him. so, instead of waiting for suna to speak up, you ask, “wanna stay the night?”

he turns his head to face you. “can i?”

“mhm,” you hum, nodding your head. “you left a bag here last time, there might be something you can wear to sleep in it.”

you point to the bag propped up in the corner of your room. his gaze follows your finger and lands on the drawstring pouch he’s been looking for since last week. he internally chuckles at himself—he should have known he could find it here, where else would it be?

suna pulls himself up from his reclined position to make his way across the room. though, partway through the process, a sharp pain shoots up his side. his hand shoots out to hold his aching ribs as he bites back a groan of complaint.

you quickly sit up with him. there’s concern painted all over your face. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, it’s where i—” he stops in the middle of his explanation, remembering the humiliation that blanketed him earlier.

“hit the window?” you finish his sentence with a quiet laugh that you fail to hold back.

he nods in confirmation, dragging the palms of his hands over his face in a show of bashfulness. it’s cute and so unlike suna. you can’t help but want to tease him just a little more.

“aw, don’t be embarrassed. want me to kiss it better?”

hiya, it's manon! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x you #haikyuu x you #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #suna scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

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lunargrapejuice · 4 months

Text

midnight chimes

astarion x reader/tav | 1.5k words

warnings: hurt/comfort, no pronouns used, lots of pet names, mentions of astarions trauma, post act two confession

astarion was used to long nights and even longer days. he was used to the nightmares that plagued his meditation under the sun or moon, the unease that seemed ever constant growing louder in the silence of his mind, but this.. this was new and was already proving to be bad for his newly beating heart.

in two hundred years he had not needed to fear the loss of someone else, whether that be in death or by choice, but these days it had been an ever constant on his mind and when his thoughts would not leave him be, he had no choice but to listen to what they told him.

was what he felt between you so fragile? like a fraying thread tying you together that one small tug could snap. or perhaps it wasn’t there to begin with, nothing more than bits of fiber in his hand that you had no use for, that was impossible to grab onto.

after all how could he argue what was undeniably in front of him? the truth that he has absolutely nothing to offer you, not even his body. that he does not deserve your kindness and it was only a matter of time until you would realize it too. the ticking of the hours he counted until this was going to end not enough to drown any of it out and even if it was, he can’t imagine it would make it any better.

thinking of how little time he might have left with you, this feeling of safety that he had not dared dream of having, being cared for and having something to care for in return, kept his heart in his throat. every passing day when you continued to choose him, every choice you made that went against the actions he had seen done by others and done himself for so very long, he wanted to hold onto you tighter and tighter, show you the same safety and care, and continue to make you smile.

it was a want he felt so strongly that it had brought him to tell you the truth of his actions with you thus far despite the worry that it would hurt you enough that you’d hate him for it or that you prove to be like so many others. when you told him you cared for him and held him in your arms, like a strike of a match he felt a spark of his heart that hadn’t beat in centuries and every day since you had kindled it tenderly.

but was it only a matter of time before his freedom and everything it came with all comes to end?

he tries to swallow the tightness in his throat, to think about anything else even if just for a moment, attempt to listen for whatever the others in camp were doing before heading into their tents to distract him when he hears your familiar steps growing closer and closer to him until they stop right outside his tent.

laying on his back, he peaks through one eye at the small slit in the opening of his tent illuminated by the fire light and sees the bottom of your legs, hesitant in their next step, one foot rubbing against the ground anxiously. so close and yet so far.

“if you want to sneak up on me darling i’m afraid you’ll have to do far better than that.”

you startle at his words but welcome them all the same. they broke you from your own worried trance that had left you restless since you and astarion said goodnight and his voice, covered in silk and amusement, made you sigh out a small laugh that released some of the tension in your chest. yet you heard something else behind them, something he tried to cover up that could have been successful if perhaps it had been anyone else.

“may i?” you tug at the opening of his tent and offer him a sweet smile when he pulls it open for you to join him with a motion of his arm and a soft grin on his own.

“hello, my dear.”

in anticipating silence you settle next to him, every moment with your heart echoing in your ears you have no doubt astarion can hear it too. it feels silly to be this nervous, you could almost laugh out loud with your bubbling nerves but the longer you’re in his presence, the more your resolve is sealed to ask what had been on your mind for a few days now.

“i hope there’s nothing troubling you?” he tries to will away the strain to his voice but it’s heavy on his tongue as he waits for the end of this between you, a very possibly reality unfolding before him. surely that's what was happening.. right?

you meet his eyes, the warmth of your cheeks evident in the weak aura of light coming in from the dimming fire outside the fabric that separates you two from the rest of the world and even though it still feels like his heart is stuck in his throat, his worries have began to fall from his shoulders and seep into the ground below, dulled in the shadows of your light.

“no, not at all! i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you,” you shuffle a little closer to him so you're facing him fully but not yet touching him. you could if you wanted, not even an arms reach away was the softness of his white curls that you wanted to run your hands through but for now, you waited and let his round ruby eyes guide the words you wanted to say much smoother than you actually did out. “i - i want to ask.. would it be okay if we could start, maybe, sharing a tent? i mean - only if you’re comfortable of coure! and it’s fine if not! i - i don’t mean anything sexual, i just want to be closer to you but..”

you continue talking without taking a single breath but the words are nearly lost on his ears and when your eyes break from his, he closes the distance between you. slightly chilled fingers caressing your cheek and bring your gaze back to his, feeling the heat of your skin and the beat of heart under his fingers.

your words die down quickly, just how he hoped his touch would cause, and with awaiting wide eyes, you look up at him, your lips falling into an adorable pout when, for a moment, he just stares at you.

“you sweet little thing,” he coos, voice deep and affectionate, rubbing his thumb along your cheek and feeling it blossom a tingle that went up his arm and through his chest when you lean into his touch with fluttering lashes. “if you wanted a cuddle every night all you have to do is ask.”

when your eyes open again they’re full of the same caring and mirthful emotions that are laced in your every word. “well this is me asking for your cuddles every night then,” you can’t help but smile and feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter under his attention and the way he very clearly loved hearing you say it. finally you reach for him in return, inching closer to each other until you are forehead to forehead, sharing every breath. “but only if you feel okay with that too.”

before you can get lost in your words again, he leans in and on bated breath you bask in the feeling of his kiss on the corner of your lips, the fingers cradling your opposite cheek a comforting feather light touch.

“i would love nothing more than to hold you each night my dear,” his words are quiet, honest, and sealed with a kiss you sighed happily into. with a flush to his pale cheeks, his voice is playful as he pulls away, “honestly, i’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” his grip on you tightens, his free around wrapping around your waist to pull you nearly flush against his chest. “you are rather insatiable for me, aren’t you? though i can’t say i blame you.”

as you giggle and shake your head, rubbing your nose against his, you have no choice but to follow him pulling you down on his sheets and into his arms with a surprising amount of strength. astarion held you close, your legs laced together, face to face on his pillow, comfortable in each other's embrace, the tips of your fingers caressing the edge of his ears and the white curls that tickled your skin.

you share another kiss and another, each one soft and unhurried and when you finally do pull away, you can hardly breathe at the sight of him so comfortable and vulnerable with you. a different kind of beautiful than when he smirks with confidence in the radiant sun but leaves you with a wildly beating heart all the same. he looks a little younger, a little lighter and you can only hope to see more of him like this.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You arrive early with your laptop. The meeting room appears occupied as you wait outside. You don’t knock for fear of interrupting and stand patiently in the hall.

You check your watch, the hot pink casio with the digital face. It’s getting close. You try not to worry too much. The IT tech will no doubt show up and realise what’s going on.

As you begin to build the upcoming meeting as more than it is, the door cracks open and a man pokes his head out. He wear frameless rectangular glasses and his blond hair is spiky and shiny with gel. He smiles as he lets the door fall open.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting, you must be our one o’clock,” he says, “I’m Jake.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself. He welcomes you in as you ponder his words, ‘our’? As you enter, you are faced with the last person you expect. The man’s neutral stare turns to a chagrined scowl as your eyes meet. The very same moody lunch partner from the day before.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly as you sit down and place your laptop on the table.

“Curtis will be doing most of the set up,” Jake explains as he sits beside the other man, “I’m mostly here for moral support.”

“Shut up,” Curtis sneers under his breath.

“Curtis,” you beam brightly; you finally got a name for the face. You give your own happily, enunciating it as if he’s never heard it before.

“Let’s get this done with,” he reaches across the table and takes your laptop.

You can only watch as he lifts the lid and starts typing. Jake looks over a tablet and offers a few words as Curtis fiddles around with your laptop. He’s met with grumbles and dismissive nods. They seem an odd pair.

“So, how are you liking it?” Jake turns his attention to you, “making any friends?”

“A few I think,” you glance at Curtis as his brows draw together, “pretty big company.”

“Yep, don’t let the corporate sea drown ya,” Jake says, “my tip, stick with the IT nerds, we mostly don’t care what’s going on upstairs. We’re all about the backend.”

The steady clack of keys underlines your small laugh. You’re nervous. You hate meetings and you just want to go back to your desk and pretend you’re reading policies.

“What is this?” Curtis grimaces and turns your computer to you. He points to the clock your installed on the desktop; Hello Kitty’s face with two clock hands ticking.

“It’s cute. It’s a clock! Oh, and the app also has a reminder setting–”

“Can’t have it on a work machine,” he grits.

“It’s fine, Curt. Won’t hurt–”

“This shit is from some Discord troll. Bullshit it can’t hurt,” Curtis insists, “policy; no third-party apps. Everything you need is already installed.”

“Okay,” you twirl your thumbs around each other, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

He looks at you above the laptop and squints, his lip slightly curling. Jake rubs his neck nervously and nudges him. You still your hands and bite into your cheek.

“He’s had a long day. Spilled coffee on himself,” Jake explains.

“Oh,” you round your eyes, looking at the wall evasively.

“We can show you how to use the system clock and reminders. You’d be surprised the features most people don’t know about,” Jake offers.

“Thanks, uh, sounds good.”

Curtis jams his finger on the touchpad harshly. He keeps his snarl aimed at the screen. You watch him, waiting for him to look up. He doesn’t. You don’t blame him, you’ve been a real thorn in his side. But you only meant well.

🌞

After the meeting, you swept up in a whirlwind of overthinking and guilt. You didn’t mean to ruin Curtis’ day. You never meant to be anything but friendly. Somehow, it rarely translates to more than a nuisance.

Still, you don’t like when people are mad at you. You’re not a grudge holder and frankly you don’t understand them. Why hold onto all that bad emotion? You need to to just apologise and let it all smooth over.

You go down to the cafeteria and grab one of the few leftover pastries. A cinnamon bun with icing, yum. You stop and make a coffee before you head back to the floor. You guess on a dark brew, he seems the type.

You wander past Research and Development and through Accounting. You don’t really know where you’re going. The further you get, the more your anxiety mounts. Surely, you can’t get lost in an office building.

You see a man with a headset and send a psst in his direction. He looks up, combing back his greasy hair with his fingers and smiles.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“Um, is this IT?” You keep your voice down in the curdling silence of the department.

“Sure is. You need a repair?” He winks. Not exactly your taste. You shake your head.

“I’m looking for Curtis,” you say.

The man looks at your handful. He nods, deflating.

“Pretty boy’s over there,” he points towards the corner.

You thank the man and press on in your journey into the villain’s lair. You can only hope your offering is enough. Forgiveness, maybe that’s too much, but an understanding, possibly.

You turn down the last row of desks and see Curtis’ large hand brush over the back of his buzzcut, his rings twinkling in the fluorescent glow. He stretches in his chair, leaning back as he reaches his arms up. His set-up looks almost too small for him.

As you approach, he stands. You don’t expect it. The motion sends his chair back just as you get close and knocks the coffee out of your hand. The cup hits the seat and soaks into the mesh. Your squeak draws the man around in surprise.

“You,” he growls as you gape at him in shock.

“Hi,” you don’t know what to do so you hold out the cinnamon bun, “um, sorry?”

He glares at you. A deadly look that chills you to the bone. His eyes fall to his drenched seat and you cringe. You see the rage pale his face. His hands ball to fists.

“I was just…” you inch closer and set the dessert on the corner of his desk, “apologising but I see now that–”

“Go,” he grits through his teeth.

“I’m sorry, Curtis–”

“I said go,” he sneers as his grey blue eyes slowly move towards you, “before you ruin anything else.”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #drabble #au #sunshine lollipops and rainbows #series #snowpiercer

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j4desblurbs · 5 months

Text

HURT YOU

sierra six (courtland gentry) x fem! reader

this man has been running laps in my brain since august so hope you enjoy 🫶 thank you to the loml @retrosabers for helping me with this

summary: six comes home wounded, and seeks comfort in your presence.

warnings: kissing, touching, description of injuries

word count: 1.2k

it had never been this bad.

sure, six had come home with injuries before. it was a part of the job, something that was expected, that you learned to get used to when you started dating him.

but the sight that confronts you now is something that you’d never imagined.

there’s a slight limp to his walk, like he’s favoring one side and doing his best not to show it. his nose is bleeding and looks broken, and there’s probably more under his clothes.

he stumbles through the doorway, trying his hardest to hide the true extent of his injuries. but even his bravest face can’t disguise the great deal of pain he’s clearly in. immediately, you rush to him, gingerly taking his face in your hands. you can feel him relax a little bit into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut at the relief of being home. of being back with you.

even though he was the one who was battered and bloodied, he took the time to ask, “you okay?”

you manage a feeble laugh, looking over him. “i’m fine. but you don’t look okay.”

“i’ll be alright.” he says, wincing slightly.

“court.”

he knows better than to deny you the truth when you use his real name. he lets out a heavy sigh as you lead him over to the bathroom.

“got ambushed in bogota.”

you sigh, helping ease his clothes off him as he sits down on the edge of the bathtub. you look over his injuries, clocking the bruises all over his torso and legs.

you know your way around his body. many nights spend tangled between the sheets, committing every inch of him to memory. you know something doesn’t feel right, no need to look at the blossoming purple on his side.

his rib is definitely broken.

“jesus christ.” you breathe out, trying your best to remain calm. you’re of no use if your hands start shaking.

you busy yourself by digging through the cabinet for the first aid kit, deciding to focus on the things you can handle. six knows you well enough to see through all your nervous ticks. his hand is warm when it wraps around your forearm, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. it’s a delicate gesture that stands in harsh contrast to the way he sits before you.

“hey.” he says, his tone soft. “it’s okay.”

you close your eyes and let out a puff of air through your nose. his other hand comes to rest against the back of your knee, gently nudging you closer to him.

“promise me that you’ll be more careful next time?”

you both know he can’t promise that. but he always promises it anyways. if it helps you sleep just a little bit better tonight, he would do just about anything.

six nods his head a bit glumly. “i promise.”

you then take care of all the smaller scratches and cuts and bruises, and it’s not long before all that’s left to cover is his broken nose, and the long bruise along his left side, purpling as time passes.

you hesitate to touch it again, recalling the way he flinched earlier. it’s like court can read your mind. he can tell from the wrinkle between your brows that you’re frustrated and unsure.

“there’s nothing you can do.” he tells you softly. “broken ribs just need to heal on their own.”

you frown. “but you won’t have ti-”

“i know i won’t have time.” he moves his hand from your shoulder to your hand, squeezing affectionately. “i just have to be careful, that’s all.”

tears well in your eyes. you hate that he has to do this. that he has to throw himself into mission after mission with barely any time to heal from the last one. knowing that the people he works for view him as disposable. you can’t fathom having anyone but six by your side, and it cuts you to your core knowing the people who put his life on the line don’t view him the same way.

his hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

he says your name softly, gently moving your face to look at him.

“i’m okay.” he reassures you once more. your bottom lip trembles unwillingly, and it nearly brings tears of his own.

“i’m okay.” he repeats for a final time before your resolve finally crumbles. you collapse to the floor between his legs, and you let go of a wrecked sob.

you do your best to reign it in, not wanting to come undone, but you can’t muster enough energy to try.

this breakdown is just because of tonight. it’s been weeks, months even, of having knots in your stomach at the thought of six never coming home. never again being in his arms, never getting that sliver of softness he reserves for you, and only you, ever again.

he wraps his arms around you and hold you close to his chest, in spite of his injuries. he could deal with the pain of a broken bone. he didn’t think he could deal with the pain he feels responsible for.

“sweetheart.” he whispers, trying to get you to calm down as he wipes your tears with his thumb. “look at me.”

with tears still blurring your vision, you look up at him. even with your glassy eyes, you could see he was hurting just as much as you.

one of his hands reaches around to rub at the nape of your neck. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“six-“

“listen to me.” he’s a bit firmer now, but not mean. he knows it’s the only way to snap you out of it sometimes. “it’s going to take a lot more than a broken rib and a bullet hole to keep me away from you, you hear me? nothing could keep me from coming home to you.”

of course, the rational part of you knows that. six is too good at what he does to die, even if he does get injured regularly. despite this, you can’t help the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the constant fear that the next time you see six is in a body bag.

you don’t want to let that fear control you. not right now at least. there may only be a few hours left in today, but you’re going to make them worthwhile.

you pick yourself up off the floor, reaching for six to lead him to your bedroom. you know that you should probably clean up the first aid supplies, but frankly, you couldn’t care less. six rests on the edge of the bed as you find him a shirt, making sure not to disturb any of his wounds as you help him slip it on.

he slides under the covers, pulling you in the bed with him. as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, six presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, resting his chin there for a minute.

“i love you.” his voice is gravelly.

you place your hands over his, gently rubbing your thumbs in soft circles on his wrists. “i love you too.”

he pulls you even closer, cocooning his body around yours and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. you love moments like this; soft, domestic ones that you don’t get to have often because of how much six is away.

you hope that one day, these moments won’t be so fleeting.

#ryan gosling #the gray man #sierra six #sierra six x reader #sierra six smut

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dekustowel · 4 months

Text

[chapter 18: the one where they face the music]

summary: in which izuku midoriya, class 2A’s resident sweetheart, agrees to help you catch the eye of your crush, the infamously stoic, shoto todoroki. it should be easy enough, right? izuku is todoroki’s best friend and feelings aren’t that hard to catch. that might just be the problem.

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masterlist | previous | next

[taglist: closed] @cozy-dolly @apple9i3 @escadolle @moonshineandclearskies @awizuku @local-space-quexn @rainypeachbakerygoth @moonlightbaby10 @dreamland03 @hiqhkey @kisakitwister @flamingi @tansyfleurwhisper @h0n3ysgh0st @keigopika @hazelnutdreaming @whatamidoing89

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YOU ARE COMPLETELY HELPLESS.

And boy, oh boy, do you know it.

because only you could watch a boy walk into such a romantically decorated room, hand in hand with another girl, and still have your heart beat to the rhythm of every step he takes. only you could watch him tuck a stray hair behind her ear and still have your heart hammer against your chest at the idea of him doing that to you. and only you could watch as his emerald eyes scan the room subtly and delusionally think that he's looking for you.

there was probably a gaping hole on the side of your head, with the way your once boisterous friends stood quietly to your left, looking at you to gauge any negative reaction.

you weakly shoot a smile their way before gazing at the spectacle in front of you once more.

it doesn't take much for midoriya and camie to capture the attention of the whole room - izuku midoriya is gorgeous in his own right, he always has been - but tonight he is resplendent. black tuxes have always been known to make a man more attractive. sure, that was true. but as midoriya moves further into the room it became strikingly obvious not only to you, but to everyone else in the room, that the black tuxedo might've been made for him and him alone.

you slam your eyes shut tightly, knowing that if you stare at him any longer a pool of drool will drown you and everyone else in this auditorium. and your insurance definitely doesn't cover that.

you focus your attention on your friends and their dates standing next to you, turning your back to your crush and his date, ignoring the sinking feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach.

"now i feel insecure. babe, we should leave early and change into our jammies." kirishima mumbled, pulling at the points of his hair, and avoiding eye-contact.

"babe, you look great, stop it." she assures him, stopping his nervous tick it's tracks, and soothingly rubbing his back.

"i will admit he's better looking than anyone gives him credit for - dare i say, he's underrated." kaminari pipes up, earning a nod in agreeance from his girlfriend.

"babbeeee, you weren't supposed to agree." kaminari whines, earning and eyeroll from jirou.

"you feeling okay, y/n?" your best friend asks, causing your laughter at your electric friend to die in your throat, a look of concern pressed against his features. sero's date, a nice guy from general studies you'd met previously, shares the same look. clearly, sero has clued him in.

"mhm. i'm doing swell." you hum, as an itch crawls up the side of your arms.

was the room always this loud?

"are you even listening to me?"

no.

no you weren't.

that was a hard thing to do when the mumblings and giggles of the nearby groups of girls were reverberating in your ears at unsafe decibels.

it's not easy to ignore the sound of his laugh or see his perfect smile and look away, but you do it. you do it because you have to.

but for whatever reason it's damn near impossible to tune out the strangers who would've never given him the time of day otherwise talking about him.

"damn, i should've dm-ed him when i had the chance. he's hot."

"is the girl he came with his girlfriend? fuck, does she even know how lucky she is?"

"the things i would do to see that tux on the floor of my r-"

tune it out. tune it out. tune it out.

the longer you listen, the more enraged you'll become, and you have absolutely no right to be enraged. you're not his girlfriend. you're not anyone. you're not camie. you're not camie.

a calloused hand places itself on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. your date stands next to you, a blank expression on his features, as he stares past you and over at the dazzling couple behind you.

you glance over your shoulder, watching as camie places a shy hand on midoriya's bicep, leaning into him as they greet his friends. she looks absolutely stunning, a little uncomfortable, but beautiful all the same. then again, you can't name a time she didn't.

why couldn't you have driven a less attractive woman into the arms of the man you love? it would have at least made you feel a little better about yourself.

"you need a drink," katsuki mumbles beside you, slicing your intense thoughts in half. he'd always been good at that, snapping you back into reality. you'd almost forgotten he was there because of how quiet he's been since you arrived. despite claiming that you would immediately part ways upon arrival, he hadn't left your side once since the night began.

you turned your attention to the typically-aggravated blonde standing closely beside you, as the light hand on your shoulder begins to steer you away from your anxieties in human form and to something less daunting: the snack bar.

"have you ever liked someone so much that you didn't care if they liked you back? you just cared if they were happy?" you asked a few minutes later, after tucking into one of the mini cupcakes they had on display.

"no, but it seems to be a common thing that you idiots feel," he responds honestly, handing you a cup of fruit punch.

"is this spiked?"

"drink it."

you do. it's fucking horrible.

"do you think it's a bad thing to feel?" you ask.

"i think it's neither here or nor there, it seems to be something you people with overly big hearts feel," your date responds, "i cannot imagine telling the person i like to be with someone else just because i want them to be happy. be happy with me or be single - that's how i feel about the whole thing."

"that's awful, kats."

"no, that's fighting for what you want. something you haven't even tried to do. you heard there was competition and gave up before you even tried. you don't even really know how deku feels." he retorted.

"of course, i do! i mean look at who he came with." you shift your head slightly in the direction you knew camie and midoriya were standing, still unable to look at them.

bakugou shakes his head, convinced that you have got to be the most daft person in this auditorium right now, "you are helpless."

you laugh at that.

"listen, you could stand here sulking all night, and fuck, i'd let you, i don't give that much of a shit," he continues, "but this stupid dance has been at the forefront of everyone's mind, and it would be great if i didn't have to hear you bitching and moaning about how you didn't have a good time tomorrow morning."

a mischievous, yet genuine smile creeps up your face as you extend your hand out to the blonde in front of you, "that was a roundabout way of asking me to dance, katsu."

"shut up."

IZUKU MIDORIYA IS THE DUMBEST MAN ALIVE. yes, that may sound like a bold claim coming from a place of regret and self-pity, and lord knows that may be true - but what if i told you it was the full unadulterated truth? that he truly was the most incompetent person in the room he was in?

would you believe me?

honestly, it wouldn't matter if you didn't.

because he believes it.

he believes it for me, you, and everyone else within a thousand-mile radius. he believes it from the top of his head all the way down to the tips of his toes. he believes it so much you can visibly see him shaking with anger at his position at the snack bar.

he doesn't even really remember how he got here. from the moment he stepped out of the 4-kilometer limo, his entire night so far has been blurring together.

he remembers helping camie out of the limo, he remembers entering the auditorium, and he remembers the whispers. but he does not remember seeing you.

for a moment he believes that you've decided to stay home. for a moment he is convinced he can leave this dance early and go and talk to you at your dorm a day early.

but that's not the case.

god, he wishes that were the case because now he has to stand here, against the back wall of the dancefloor, and watch you dazzle the room as you switch between dance partners captivating every person who your hands meet.

izuku midoriya is the dumbest man in the world today because he hurt you yesterday, and there is nothing he can do about it until tomorrow.

so he has to fill his night with playing the wallflower role, watching you from a safe distance. not that he could get any closer if he wanted to. sero's been watching him since the night began and there was almost no way in hell that midoriya was getting to you without going through him first.

he watched wordlessly as bakugou, his nemesis, best friend, and the other things in between, entered the rotation. he twirled you up in the air, the most angelic giggles escaping from your lips, cries of laughter between pleas of mercy.

izuku wonders about the last time that smile was directed at him. he also wonders how discreetly he can activate one-for-all before bakugou notices and attacks him first.

it's been a long time since midoriya felt an ounce of jealousy toward his childhood friend. i mean, you live 14 years in a man's shadow and you think that's the most resentment you can feel towards him.

how shocking it must be to realize that years of childhood trauma don't even hold a candle to what he's feeling right now?

midoriya threw his head back downing the last of his overly sweet, potentially-spiked punch.

"drowning yourself in gross drinks doesn't help by the way," an unexpected voice called from beside him. izuku glanced over only to be met with the side profile of his good friend, ochaco.

she leaned against the wall cooly, bopping her head to the pop music playing, "have you spoken to her yet?"

"i haven't. sero's been playing guard dog all night," the freckled teen commented, reaching to pour himself another drink before his hand was swatted away by his friend.

"you gonna confess?"

"i mean in a normal circumstance you would. but i don't even have real confirmation that she likes me. i only have context clues, and todoroki's cryptic ass texts."

"you need more than that?"

"hearing her say it would be nice because the googly eyes she's making at kacchan right now aren't helping my confidence much." midoriya laughed drily, resting his face in his palms, "it also doesn't help that she thinks I have feelings for someone else."

"you've both really made a mess of things." she comments bluntly.

"thank you, that's helpful."

it's silent for a few moments after that, causing midoriya to turn his head and look at his friend. she appears contemplative with her furrowed eyebrows and the chewing of her bottom lip.

"you want help, deku? fine, i'll give you help. you're gonna have a window of 17 seconds to get to her without anyone intervening." she states, out of practically nowhere.

"i beg your pardon?"

"i'm going to distract sero and his date, it's going to take roughly 17 seconds before he realizes what's going on and turns around to get to y/n, by then, i expect you to already be there confessing your undying love or whatever," she explains as she stands up.

"i can't-"

"can't or won't?" she shuts him down immediately, already walking away before midoriya was able to get a word in at all.

instantaneously, uraraka is at work, she is delighting sero and his boyfriend, and they're laughing as midoriya is cutting through the crowd as inconspicuously as possible.

he finally reaches bakugou, who is no longer dancing with you and instead recording videos for kirishima and mina.

"where is y/n?" midoriya hurriedly asks.

"what took you so fucking long, idiot?" the irritated blonde inquired.

"doctor's orders: stay away from y/n."

"and you actually listened to that crap? psh, now i really know you're an idiot," bakugou rolls his eyes, "she's dancing with that metal fucker from 2b."

it doesn't take much effort to find tetsutetsu. the strobe lights on the dancefloor reflects off him making him an equal parts blinding disco ball and a beautiful one.

"tetsu, do you mind if i cut in?"

his voice immediately sends shivers up your spine, causing each individual hair on your body to stand on end.

please tetsu. please tetsu. please tetsu.

the downside to tetsu being metal is that he cannot feel the change in pressure applied to his body. because there's no way in hell he would've felt the vice grip you had on his shoulders and still assuredly and happily say, "go for it, bro! don't let me stop you!" and immediately step back into the crowd. that would've never happened.

unfortunately it did.

"don't run away. i need to talk to you." he exhaled, reading your thoughts in an instant, and practically cementing your feet in place.

you rolled you eyes sublty, crossing your arms over you chest hoping that this action will protect your heart from the incoming stabbing pain it will face.

i mean isn't it obvious why he wants to talk to you?

he saw you here with bakugou at some point during the night and he probably asked todoroki what was going on, and the jig was finally up. odd are he told him everything. and it's most likely he's flattered but uninterested.

this was izuku midoriya trying to let you down gently and god, did you feel pretty fucking pathetic.

you inhaled deepy as midoriya took your hand in his and pulled you close to him, making it impossible for him to not feel the rapid way in which your heart was beating. your face heated at the thought of him knowing just how nervous he made you.

you'd love to bathe in the warmth of his body and breathe in his pine scent, but you couldn't help but wonder where camie was. imagine how she'd feel if she saw you pressed up against her date like this.

before you could make a move to put distance between you and midoriya, he began speaking.

"are you thinking about, camie?" midoriya asked quietly, clearly able to read the expression on your face.

"yeah." you replied timidly.

"she's gone." he responded, emphasizing that last word.

you slowly raised your head, to meet his eyes for the first time since he arrived in the auditorium, "what?"

"she went to go see her boyfriend."

"i don't understand," you respond, a fog you didn't even realize was there to start with began to clear.

"i've been trying to tell you that camie and i were never together."

"but her twitter-"

"she was trying to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, which obviously it worked because she left within the first 20 minutes of us being here to be with him, which you would've noticed if you weren't avoiding me," he explained, taking your hand in his, "camie and i were never together. she and i were just using each other as a distraction from our problems. we are friends. nothing more nothing less,"

you stared at him in disbelief, the fog quickly turning into a red haze of anger, "why wouldn't you just tell me that from the beginning? and why did you even need to use camie? i mean, we'd gotten pretty close by that point, i don't understand why you couldn't confide in me, izuku," you say half to him, and half to yourself, ripping your hand out of his grasp in the process.

he loved hearing you say his first name, but not like this. not when you're angry with him.

"it is complicated," he frowned, defeat playing on his soft features.

"bullshit. you didn't trust me enough to talk to me about your problems. midoriya, i told you everything." you whisper-shouted, your heart jumping into your throat.

you'd quickly become very conscious of the fact that you were having this heated discussion in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by your peers. and it sure as hell didn't help that uraraka, sero, and, bakugou were all staring at you two from a distant spot on the wall of the dancefloor.

exasperated and mildly embarrassed, you unhook yourself from midoriya's steady grasp on your waist and storm your way out onto the balcony. he followed closely behind.

you thought the cold air would give you some clarity or maybe some kind of idea on how to navigate this conversation, but all it really did was anger you further, "why don't you trust me?" you choked out, tears brimming in your eyes.

"i- i do." midoriya pleaded.

"you don't!" you spat, turning your back to him and looking out to the musutafu skyline, finally allowing the tears to kiss your cheeks.

"you don't," you whispered, hanging your head, "you opted to rent a girlfriend and confuse the masses rather than just talk to me about your problems."

"how do you expect me to talk about my problems to the problem, y/n?" he finally snapped, turning you whole body to face him with one swift movement.

you pause, mulling over the weight of his words for a second.

"you're the problem, y/n." he starts, running an exasperated fist through his hair, "you've been the problem since the first time you messaged me. honestly, you've been the problem since we met!" he's pacing now, "seriously what did you want me to do? come to you and tell you how you're all i can think about and that all i wanna do is punch my best friend in the face because the girl i am hopelessly in love with loves him instead?"

he's in love with you?

izuku midoriya is in love with you?

your body is like a magnet, it moves all on it's own.

"you know, i had this whole speech i was gonna give you about how i was sorry for letting you think that even for an instant, there was another girl in my life that meant as much to me as you did-"

"oh, were you?" you cut in, stepping closer to him.

"-and i was going to tell you how sorry i am that i made you sad and that if you allowed me to do right by you, i would do everything in my power to make sure that you never felt sad again." he declares, breathless by the time he's finished his monologue.

"you have feelings for me?" you ask, inching closer to him.

"it's relatively impossible not to, y/n, have you met yourself?" he responds with a sigh, bringing his hand up to rub his forehead.

"poor taste." you quip, getting a rare eye roll from the boy in front of you.

"so, you started talking to camie to distract yourself from your feelings for me because you wanted me to be happy?" you question slowly, wanting to catch every change in reaction his face makes. you get a little closer.

"and you dropped todoroki without telling me because you thought i was into camie, and you wanted me to be happy?" he retorted. he's moving a little too.

a small laugh can't help but play in your throat before you deeply exhale, and bring your palm up to cup his freckled cheek. as if it were the most natural thing, he begins nuzzling into the warmth of your hand.

"i hate when he's right," you hum, thinking of your best friend and the first words he ever said to you when you mentioned involving midoriya in this whole mess, "he's never gonna let me live this down." you murmur, caressing the freckles under your thumb.

"when who is ri-" midoriya tries to inquire, but the words die in his throat, as you move towards him suddenly, lifting your head, and pressing your lips against his. after a few moments, you make a move to pull away, but the hand that wraps around your neck, and the other that holds your cheek holds you stationary, and simultaneously causes the kiss to deepen significantly. it does take much longer to confirm your suspicion that there is probably nothing else in the world you enjoy more than kissing izuku midoriya.

"wait, wait, wait," the greenette pulls away, earning a whiny groan from you, "as much i love that, i need to know what this means. i need to hear you say it."

"it means that i am hopelessly in love with you too. and that i'm sorry for putting you through that emotional rollercoaster. it means i am yours for as long as you'll have me." you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder.

"hm." midoriya hummed in satisfaction, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, "can we agree on something?"

"sure."

"when it comes to one another, let's vow to be eternally selfish."

"pft, vowing to have you all to myself forever?" you laugh, "consider it done."

——————————————

FUN FACT: i am a sucker for a happy ending.

——————————————

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soobnny · 1 year

Text

practice makes perfect — hwang hyunjin.

trope. best friends to lovers. fluff. just kissing.

synopsis. hyunjin stresses how important it is that you help him practice for his role in your university’s upcoming play, especially the kissing scene.

word count. 2.1k words

warnings. hyunjin overthinks for a moment in the beginning. nothing else.

note. hello hi, i’ll be busy with exams in a few days so i thought to post something before i disappear for around a week !! please enjoy :) oh n u can still send an ask to be added in my skz permanent taglist!

Hyunjin’s falling, straight into the fire, because now, the harsh pull of pressure is weighing him down — sitting on his shoulders and refusing to budge from its place.

When he had decided to audition for your university’s upcoming play, it had been something of mere fun — a passion he was (unseriously) pursuing. It’s not like he had time anyway, he had a lot of deadlines that were way on top of his priority list for him to be participating in something that would for sure take up hours of his days. Hours that he needed.

It just so happens that he likes the play, and knew a song or two to participate in the auditions. It wouldn’t hurt to try out for extra credit, right?

When he got news of his acceptance, Hyunjin was a little conflicted, but grateful for the opportunity. He does enjoy performing, and if his acceptance letter to play the main role in their musical wasn’t enough of a sign for him to maybe start pursuing it seriously, he doesn’t know what else could push him. Besides, he has been thinking about it for a while. Maybe it was okay to sacrifice a bit of his hours.

So, he was ecstatic, to say the least.

But now, seated on his bed at nine in the evening with the script in his hand, he’s starting to regret his decision. What if he wasn’t good enough for the role? What if acting has never been made for him, and he was right to treat it as a silly hobby?

Hyunjin’s thinking, I could’ve really used this time to start that artwork for my midterm project.

It’s nine in the evening and he’s preoccupied in his own thoughts. It’s obvious when Hyunjin’s nervous — you’ve known him for so long to consider yourself an expert in his not so subtle ticks. The light tapping of his feet, the constant running of his hand through his hair, the fiddling of his fingers and flipping of the pages without a single thought behind his eyes.

So, you swallow the thick air. Your heart physically cannot take the sight of him looking genuinely terrified and conflicted.

“What’s wrong?”

His head peps up at the sound of your voice, his smile a little too tight lipped for your liking as he shakes his head in response to your question. “Nothing’s wrong.”

And yet he doesn’t stop fidgeting his hands on his lap. You know him too well to not be able to notice.

“Cmon, you know you can be honest with me.”

With a humourless laugh, he sighs and takes your hand in his. He finds that holding your hand has always calmed him down.

Something in the way your hand feels, touching the palm of his makes him feel that the entire world is at his fingertips, and he can conquer just about anything. It’s become a habit for Hyunjin to call you backstage just before a performance so he can spend the time holding your hand, or when he’s about to submit an artwork.

Hyunjin still remembers how you held his hand for the first time, and how he spent everyday after that memorizing the feeling of your hand tightly intertwined in his.

“Are you second guessing yourself?” When he snags his bottom lip between his teeth in response to your question, you know you’ve hit the nail.

Hyunjin has always hated admitting his insecurities and was thankful you always understood without him having to tell you.

Without missing a beat, you lace your fingers with his and tug slightly to get his attention. He maintains contact with your hand, his nervousness speaking without words as he rubs his thumb in small circles against the back of your hand.

“Jinnie, you can do it. You know, I really wish you could see what I see. Talent and success surrounds you and encompasses the entirety of your life. And I will spend the rest of my fucking life reminding you that you’re so worthy and capable of becoming who you want to be.”

He lets out an airy laugh, his free hand balling up a fist to punch your shoulder gently.

You know he gets the message, though, when he brings your intertwined hands up to his lips and places sweet, grateful kisses on the back of your hand and a small ‘thank you’ is mumbled in between.

He’s really grateful to have you, he thinks. And it amazes him how the one thing that means the world to him fits in the palm of his hand in this moment.

“Okay, now let’s memorize these lines, yeah? Practice makes perfect.”

He whines when you let go of his hand, but swallows it down anyways. You were right, he did need to practice, and there’s still time to hold your hand later and tomorrow and the day after that. So, he nods, getting back up to his feet, script in one hand and the other motioning for you to get up too. You confusingly follow.

Hyunjin grins brightly as he rummages through his school bag before shoving an extra copy of the script in your direction. Before you get the chance to ask, he’s already nagging at you — “You have to help me rehearse now. No take backs.”

You turn to shake your head, but fuck, it’s so hard to say no to Hyunjin when he’s standing so impossibly close you get an HD view of the stars in his irises and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks. Why did he have to look at you like that? How come you’ve forgotten how to say ‘no’?

“Please? Because you believe in me, and being alongside you makes me believe that I can do it too. And because I’m your best friend who’s doubting himself?”

“Fuck you.”

He knows it’s a joke when you begrudgingly grab the script he’s offering you, flipping through the pages to mirror the one he’s on.

“You better treat me to so much food after this. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night.”

“You’re my person, did you know?” A smile pulls at his eyes, pulling you in for an embrace and staying there for a moment. “I know, and you’re mine too. Now shut up so we can get this over with, and you can buy me my food.”

It was only supposed to be a quick run-through of the script, at least you thought it would. And yet two hours later, you’re still standing with him, going through every single detail and aiding him in which emotions would perfectly fit with the dialogue.

Hyunjin’s a perfectionist.

He’s analyzing every body movement, ever line, every intonation in his voice. His overenthusiastic energy and burning passion for his craft masks the concave of your undereye and is enough for you to keep going.

It’s not everyday Hyunjin feels this much inspiration, and you were determined to be there with him through it. You know how hard it is for inspiration and motivation to spark. It’s there, and then it’s not.

But in the moment, inspiration is burning bright and you don’t want it to go away. He doesn’t deserve to feel terrified.

Besides, the part you’re playing and the lines you’re being ordered to say gives you the perfect excuse to look at him a little longer than friends do. It allows you the experience of what it must be like to be in a requited love with the boy. For once, you’re not scared to look at him like you always do when he’s looking away.

You just have to make sure your actual emotions don’t bleed through the character you’re pretending to be.

Hyunjin brings a hand up to his face, dragging his palm down his cheek as he gets deep in thought again — a phenomenon that has been so rampant for the past few hours you’ve been working on the script together. It usually happens in between scenes, when he’s thinking about something. Like how to improve, what to do to make it better, how to connect with the audience.

Fuck, even the sight of his frustration has you thinking, he’s art embodied into a young boy.

“We should do the last part. I think that’s what we’re missing, why the scene feels so… lacking.”

You don’t even have to look at the script to know what he was talking about. It was a stupid idea, and you knew it. It was the one specific part the two of you awkwardly glossed over and skipped while running through the scenes. The thought makes your heartbeat quicken.

All you can do is nod at him. Your voice feels too betraying to attempt to even say anything. You can’t bring yourself to refuse when he’s standing so close to you and he’s licking his lips at the thought of kissing you under the pretense of practicing. It’s not like you haven’t thought about kissing the boy before.

Maybe a kiss would finally help you move on?

(That’s complete bullshit, and you know it.)

“Okay, let’s do this.” He’s smiling a little too happy compared to the smile you’re used to, tossing both of your scripts aside and urging you to get into character.

You fail to hear his heartbeat drumming through his chest and the warmth creeping up from his neck to the tip of his ears and the way he has to bite down at his lips to stop himself from smiling too much.

The scene runs so smoothly between the two of you — the chemistry so clear and undeniable as you spoke each line. When the dreaded “last part” neared, you were sure he would back down last minute due to the awkwardness it might elicit from the two of you.

And yet, he continues, stepping closer.

One step. Then another. He’s grabbing your arm gently to pull you into his chest. A line is spoken, and then another step. His hand finds home in your face rather quickly. The last line. And just like that, he kisses you.

And although the scene called for a short, sweet kiss — his goes on for a while. His lips meet yours in a slow burn of longing, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding through your ears as you kiss him back. His lips are chapped but soft, and the way his hand caresses your cheek takes precedent in your mind.

There’s a sound creeping up from his throat but he forces it down, his other hand finding home on your face so that he’s holding the sides of your head.

A thrill runs down your spine.

“And cut.”

He whispers, looking down at you with the most boyish smile playing on his lips, end of his ears overwhelmingly red as he blinks at you with his glittering eyes and long lashes.

You clear your throat, chuckling nervously at your best friend. You don’t think you can think of proper words especially when you’re still basking in the way his lips felt against yours, so you refrain from talking about it. There hasn’t been a time when your words have ever helped you around the boy, so why should they now?

You know yourself too well to understand this is the perfect moment for you to self-sabotage. You know that if he stares at you for one second longer, you’ll trash the pretty lines written in the script and confess how you’ve loved Hwang Hyunjin for years now, and you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving him.

“Alright, now that that’s done, let’s get the food I was promised?” You smile nervously, breaking eye contact and patting his arm to motion for him to pack up so you can get your snacks.

Although, that’s really the last thing on your mind right now. You’re still stuck on the feeling of his lips pressed against yours and how gentle he held your face and the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss and the stupid way he looked at you when he pulled away.

“I don’t know… I think we should go through it a couple more times. Practice makes perfect, you were the one who said that, right?”

That night, you kissed each other a total of eight times — all in the excuse of perfecting the scene and establishing the chemistry and relationship of the characters you were ‘playing’. It doesn’t matter that both of your feelings are bleeding through, and each kiss always lasts a little longer after the other, right?

You make plans to come by his house the same time the next day and repeat.

Afterall, practice does make perfect.

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lelengerine · 7 months

Note

I'm down bad for mark+ celebrities au 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

thinking 'bout you

pairing | idol!mark x idol!reader

genre | celebrity co-hosts au (if that’s a thing), a lot of fluff and comforting, mark addressed reader as dude once

wc | 0.6k

notes | thank u sm for requesting on my drabble event hehe <33 i hope you enjoy reading this and hopefully its along the lines of what you wanted !! likes, rbs, and feedback are highly appreciated :D

this is part of my drabble req event here!

m.list

as one of the hosts for the year-end awards event, you are currently residing backstage in a location grander than any you have ever seen. and though the outfit assigned to you looks absolutely pristine, it does little in actually giving you comfort to last the entire night.

in your hands are cue cards you’ve been practicing nonstop for the past few days, now feeling anxious as the time ticks closer to the actual event. this was a ceremony broadcasted nation-wide and you didn’t wish to be deadweight your co-host needed to pick up.

“y/n, you ready?” a voice abruptly brings you out of your thoughts, turning towards its direction to find mark calmly approaching you. he was your chosen co-host for the event with a few years more experience than you. this gave you all the more reason to hate the idea of messing up and becoming a fool in front of someone like him. “hey… are you good?”

“hm? yeah, i’m fine. just a little nervous, but i won’t let you down!” your determination is oddly enough endearing to him, a lopsided smile now grazing his lips.

“i know you wont, y/n.” he answers back with a soft chuckle, the sound of it easing the tensions within you. “come on now, you were chosen as a host for a reason.” he adds, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“thank you for the flattery, but if i may ask, how do you look so relaxed all the time? i wish i were like you.” you admit with a sheepish expression, and he looks at you a little dumbfounded.

“me?” he points at himself almost animatedly, eyes widening. “oh dude, if you knew what’s going on inside my head right now- i think you’d say otherwise.”

he puts it lightheartedly, but deep down, you understand he’s rather in the same predicament as you, trying to find a form of relief from the panic before the event actually began. and for some reason, that revelation calmed you down more than anything has — you weren’t alone in this. he’s your co-host after all.

“then that makes both of us.” you state with the hopes of providing him that same comfort, and he seems to acknowledge the meaning behind your words. “it does.”

“you know,” he starts, “i’ve heard that thinking about someone you like really helps the stage fright. i used to only think of my parents before going up on stage, but maybe i’ll change it up today and think of someone else.”

you feel a prickle of heat up your cheeks, thoughts in your head running the idea that he could be talking about you, but your logical self told you that could only be utter nonsense.

“you’ll change it up today…?” you repeat slowly, wanting clarification on his words. “does that mindset really work?”

“it does if you believe in it enough? does that sound silly?” he cranes his head a little to the side, shyly rubbing his nape.

you immediately shut down his worries, shaking your head. “not at all! i’ll try it if you say it works. i just don’t know if i have anyone in mind yet.” with that answer, he beams again, opening his mouth to reply but one of the staff members manages to speak before he gets to utter a single word.

“y/n, mark, it’s time to head up. please make sure you bring your cue cards.” they instruct, now waiting on you both to lead you up the stage.

“oh- well then, shall we?” he politely offers his arm out for you to hold, one you take graciously.

“we shall.” you answer with a grin, knowing you’d take mark’s advice to think of a person you like as a way to calm your nerves, and that person might just be him.

#lelengerine drabble event #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct dream angst #mark fluff #mark lee fluff #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #mark angst #mark lee angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 drabbles

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finelinevogue · 1 year

Text

never too late

summary - billy plays you a song and you fall in love with him a little more

pairing: bestfriend!billy x reader

word count: -1k

a/n: first ever billy dunne fic! it’s probably absolute crap but pretend you enjoy it anyways!!! also let me know whether you want a pt.2 cause this is just a taster!!!!

“I have something new.” Billy walked into your room and slouched down on your bed.

He leaned back against your headboard with his guitar strung over his chest ready to be played. His t-shirt was ridiculously sweaty from how hot it was out, the open window barely passing a breeze through.

You were sat at your desk, scrapbooking again. You loved making scrapbooks for each passing year and due to it being December it had come that time of year again, to have your photos developed and stuck in a book forever.

“When did you get here?” You laughed at his audacity to just waltz into your room. You hadn’t even heard him knock.

“Well your mom was talking about another friend she knows who can get us a gig for next Saturday. So, about 40 minutes ago.” He joked about how your mom would just talk and talk and talk…

You shook your head and gave him your undivided attention, by coming to sit on the corner of your bed next to his feet.

“So, you have something new?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“Is it as political as the last one? ‘Cause I don’t think singing about how much you hate America is going to sell well.” You teased him, to which he responded by playfully kicking you with his foot.

“Actually, it’s a love song.” He sniffled, rubbing his nose with a finger - a nervous tick of his you’d noticed since forever.

You swallowed lightly, “O-oh. So you’ve got a muse, do you?” Your smile was small and Billy knew you well enough to tell just that.

“Is that so bad?”

“N-no. Aha, no not at all. What’s the song about?” You tried to steer the topic of conversation, before you ended up revealing your truest heart to him.

Billy Dunne could never know that your heart had always been his.

He just couldn’t. It was ruin everything.

“Well, they always say when the end of the year comes around you look back on the things that you regret not doing, saying… loving. So, I guess it’s a tribute to that feeling.” He looked at you with those big blue eyes and you were found all over again.

Falling in love with Billy had been easy.

Catching yourself from falling too hard, too quickly, has been the issue.

“Let’s hear it then.” You smiled more confidently, always excited to hear Billy sing. You often listened to the tape he had recorded for you before falling asleep, because it was all the acoustic versions of the songs that had never been produced further than that.

They were solely yours. That mixtape was your own personal slice of Billy’s heart, waiting to be played every night to let the love spill out of the music and into your own heart.

Billy started strumming the guitar and you were trying to memorise every note so that you’d never forget it. He smiled as he played, most likely thinking of the girl who he regretted not loving this year.

You watched him intensely, watching his fingers strum the guitar with precision and allowing the music to flow freely. It was a challenge not to smile in awe of him.

His lyrics were sad, but hopeful. It sounded like he was calling out to this girl and stressing there was still time for them. The year hadn’t ended yet and Billy sounded desperate to not finish the year without making sure she knew that. The melody was beautiful and catchy. No doubt you’d find yourself singing in every shower concert from now on.

Once he’d finished he looked towards you apprehensively to gauge your reaction. His brows furrowed when he saw you teary eyed.

“That bad, huh?” He chuckled briefly, trying to lighten the weird pressure in the room.

“No,” You rushed out, “God, no, Billy. Just, well– yeah…”

“Yeah, what?” He put the guitar down on the bed next to him and sat up so he was closer to your body. “Was it really awful?”

“Billy…” You rolled your eyes at how he could even suggest such a thing. Billy Dunne would and could never be awful at music. His lyrics, his melodies and his songs were always second to none.

Billy was made for the big stage and you dreamt every night that he would achieve those dreams. The day Billy performs for a crowd larger than 200 people will be the day you run on stage and kiss him for how much you love him.

“Hey.” He sat forwards a little more and took your hands in his. “What’s up?”

“The song was nice.”

“Nice? You’re upset because my song was nice?” He chuckled, finding that hard to believe.

“No, i’m… It’s just nice that you think of this person you wrote the song for in that way.” You looked into his eyes of ocean blue and fell a little bit more in love with him. You smiled and made sure he was smiling too.

He kept looking over your features of your face; scanning from eyes to nose to freckles to… lips. His eyes took in every inch of your face and yet all your could focus on where his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that told you a thousand different pictures on one canvas.

“Well, it turned out I more than love this person.” He smiled warmly, clearly thinking about this girl in his head.

“Why did you never tell me?”

Billy laughed a heavy gasp, turning his gaze towards the more interesting looking floor and collecting his thoughts before turning back to you.

“I.. I dunno.” He smiled.

“Well I hope you play this special person your song and I hope they fall in love with you too.”

“I just did.” Billy said quickly, almost as if he didn’t say it now he never would. It felt unplanned for him, but it felt right.

“W-what?”

“Shit - Aha - Did you fall in love with the song? With me?” He asked so quickly that your mind was not focusing properly. “I’ve fucked this all up haven’t I? Fuck. Y/N, listen I—”

“Billy, you love me enough to write me a song?” You asked quietly, your eyes gently tearing up again.

“Always kinda have.” He smiled.

“God…” You laughed to yourself.

“What?”

“I just.. I never thought you’d ever actually love me back!”

Billy’s smile turned wider and into a large grin, with eyes full of hope. “You mean?…” He looked expectantly at you.

“I love you, Billy Dunne.” You said once quietly and then repeated it louder for ask your neighbours to hear. You wanted everyone to finally know your declaration loud and proud.

You wanted everyone to know Billy could be the world’s icon, but he’d always be your heart.

#billy dunne fanfic #billy dunne fic #billy dunne #daisy jones x reader #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones and the six fanfic #the dunne brothers #the dunne brothers fic #daisy jones and the six x reader #billy dunne concept #billy dunne x reader

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bettathanyou · 4 months

Note

I'm really new to the fandom (I got in it because I am absolutely in love with this wet-cat of a man, Cedric) but I already have the head canon that Cedric thinks he's (romantically) unlovable. It just doesn't compute in his brain that someone could have such feelings about him. Sure, he can be liked and admired but never loved. (Probably due to his traumas)

Can you write a little thing about Y/N being not very subtle about their feelings but Cedric just doesn't get it. Sofia tries to even be a little match-maker!

Sofia: I think Y/N has a crush on you! :D Cedric: You should know better than to lie.

Take A Hint: Y/N x Cedric The Sorcerer, Having A Crush!

"Cedric!"

Your voice carried through the breeze of the garden, the trees rustling softly alongside your hair being tousled by the wind. It was another fair weather, perfectly sunny day in Enchancia; right now, though, all you cared about was centered on the sorcerer in plum stained robes.

He was grumbling to himself, oblivious to your approach.

"Cedric...!"

You called out louder, your pace subconsciously picking up as you approached Cedric. Upon your second greeting, the man visibly flinched, clearly snapped out of whatever daze he was in before.

Cedric quickly turned his head towards you standing there, his mahogany irises lighting up in recognition and warmth. The man's lanky body was still half bent over the lavender bush in front of him, with silvery grey bangs hung slightly in his eyes.

You beam Cedric a giddy smile, feeling your heart race by just seeing those caramel eyes fixed on you. What made your stomach flip, though, was seeing the sweet and shy smile creep along the sorcerer's cheeks to return your own smile.

In a last minute decision, you decide to be bold; because, well- you tried being subtle for weeks about your feelings! You had hoped for all the small touches, winks from catching eye contact, and compliments that the sorcerer would've noticed by now.

However, Cedric wasn't getting it; you were going to go mad at this rate, if this slow burn got any damn slower.

Your fingers gently brush a lock of thick, silky silver out of Cedric's eye. You see the man freeze from contact, clearly not expecting such close proximity. Cedric swallows, hard, holding his breath and hoping you couldn't hear his heart slamming against his chest.

His eyes stay fixed on you, as you adjust his bangs without a word- and you certainly weren't complaining. Cedric's eyes were already a lovely light brown color on their own, but in the bright summer sun they shined like pools of molten gold, the kind any noble or king would envy.

He was beautiful, and the glow in your cheeks damned you to how much you liked him.

As you pull your hand away, your fingertips brush against his cheek. It was like a match being struck against the grain, setting Cedric's skin ablaze with a red hue.

You giggle slightly, biting your tongue trying not to embarrass him further.

"... Your bangs are starting to get longer, Cedric." You commented with a smirk, unabashedly checking him out.

"It's- Uh, well- I..." The sorcerer fumbles with his words, then his hands with a nervous tick.

"I like it, you know."

I like you, too. You thought to yourself, the words almost tumbling out of your throat alongside it.

Cedric laughs awkwardly, clearly unsure how else to take your compliment other than a small, "Thank you, dear."

Wait.

"...Dear?"

You cock your head to the side, a Cheshire grin spreading across your face.

Cedric raises his brows in equal parts surprise and distress, as if he didn't even know what came out of his mouth. He scrambles to say something, but you don't give him the opportunity to apologize or try to take back what he said.

"I think I like that, too~"

You confess with a soft chuckle, breaking eye contact as your own bashfulness begins to catch up to you. You rub your arm a little self consciously, to soothe your nerves before glancing back at the sorcerer.

Cedric inwardly flinches from your eyes catching his own again. He didn't understand why you were so nice, and friendly, and happy to be around someone like him, but. It felt... Good- and nerve-wracking.

Definitely nerve-wracking.

It was like your presence alone made every nerve ending in his body be set on fire, and he wasn't exactly sure why. But the stinging glow of his cheeks, raised body temperature, and sudden loss for words due to a curious kind of brain fog that only happens around you...

Cedric shakes his head, blinking quickly to regain his focus. He didn't know how long he was staring for, and frankly the sorcerer didn't want to think about it. He stutters out a response, clearing his throat.

"Well, if you're al-alright with t-that, I can address you as s-uch." The sorcerer speaks in a neutral tone, but with a slight raise to his voice as if he was asking for permission.

You bite your tongue to barely conceal a squeal of happiness.

"That's fine..." You drawled out, but then quickly added, "Can call you dear, too?"

Cedric glances away, tugging on his muted yellow ochre tie. His initial response was to ask "why?" , because he wasn't sure why you would use such a term of endearment, for someone like himself.

But then, he also knew if he asked you why, then he would have to answer your following question, which is usually,

"well, why not?"

"...I suppose that's only fair; alright then."

Cedric nods, straightening up and smoothing down the front of his robe. He clears his throat again, taking in a deep breath.

"So, what did you need from me... D-dear?" Cedric chuckles nervously to himself, suddenly feeling very aware of everything and especially you, staring at him and making his heart race uncontrollably.

You huff in amusement, lips curled into a small smile.

"I just wanted to spend my break in the garden, really. Then, I saw you! So I wanted to say hi and chat- if you're not too busy...?"

You glanced over to the lavender bush Cedric was studying before you interrupted. It seemed like nothing was picked just yet, and suddenly you feel nervous about distracting Cedric from his work. You know the tight schedule he can have, over the course of getting to know him between his running around doing things for Roland or the royal children.

You go to open your mouth to apologize, but before a word can leave your lips Cedric is already speaking.

"No...! No, not at all, (y/n). I-I mean, yes, I am busy, but I meant-..." Cedric scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly as he trails off.

Your heart flutters, whether it's from his smile or your own anxiety, you weren't sure.

"...Yes, my dear?" You offer with a smile, rocking on your heels for emphasis.

Cedric chuckles softly at that, his shoulders relaxing as he laughs. You can only smile wider in return, a loss for words at how every mannerism of his makes you come undone at the seams.

"I will always have time for you, (y/n)."

Cedric speaks with a soft, but confident voice, nodding to you. You blink, not expecting such a drastic shift of attitude from the sorcerer.

"Ri-right...!" You replied, voice shaking slightly. Now, it seems it was your turn to be flustered beyond coherent thought.

You both continue to chit chat about things happening currently in the castle, as well as get to listen to Cedric explain what he's using the lavender he's harvesting for; unsurprisingly, it's for a potion.

To be honest, you couldn't really focus on what he was saying entirely, because of Cedric's tendency to (cutely) ramble about magic things. But you didn't care in the slightest; the shimmer in his eyes as he speaks with passion about things he loves, is all that you need to see.

Afterwards, you sadly tell Cedric you have to get back to work, but then ask really quick if you can stop by his workshop later to see the potion he's making in action. He agrees, almost too quickly, which leaves you with a smile that lasts all day.

"I'll see you then, dear!" You call out, waving your hand in goodbye.

Cedric waves back, not realizing the smile on his own face.

________

"Mr. Cedric!" Sofia barks out excitedly, already running over to the tall man.

Cedric yells in surprise, nearly jumping out of his skin from the sudden appearance of his apprentice and friend.

"Princess...! Merlin's mushrooms, child, you scared me half to death!" Cedric chided her with a huff, pushing back his bangs.

"Sorry...!" The young girl peeks up from her auburn curls, flashing Cedric an apologetic smile.

After a beat, Cedric relents, sighing in resignation.

"It's quite alright. Did you get everything on the list I gave you?"

"Yup! All accounted for!"

Sofia displays her basket of herbs and flowers proudly with a bright, cheery smile.

Cedric hums in approval, quickly looking over everything to make sure it's correct.

After a moment, he nods, patting Sofia's head in praise.

"Excellent work, my dear."

Sofia chuckled warmly. "Thanks, Mr. Cedric."

As they brought in the ingredients for the potion, Sofia eyed the man with a mischievous smile.

"So... You're gonna show (y/n) the potion too, right Mr. Cedric?"

Cedric paused for a moment, looking down at the girl. She wore a smile he knew all too well meant trouble, and he didn't like it.

"You know better than to eavesdrop, Princess."

"I wasn't...! I mean, not really! I just couldn't help but overhear while picking the flowers!"

Sofia grabbed a daffodil for emphasis, holding it up to the sorcerer like it was indisputable evidence.

Cedric scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as he waved her off.

"Yes, yes, I understand what you mean, Sofia."

As they continue down the hall, about to turn the corner into Cedric's tower staircase, Sofia speaks again.

"You know, Mr. Cedric, (y/n) seems to really like you. Do you think... She might..." The girl wanders off, biting her lip and smiling.

"She might what?" Cedric prompts her with a concerned tone, his hands turning clammy as the silence fills the space around them.

"...You know! likes, likes you?" Sofia giggles, eyeing Cedric with another smile.

Cedric huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea makes his cheeks flare a bright red at the thought, even if the idea was absurd to begin with. After all, it's you. You're too beautiful, too kind, too interesting, too- too you, to even consider a bumbler like himself.

"It's rude to gossip, Sofia. You ought to know better." Cedric scowled, giving the girl a pointed look with a raised brow.

"I'm just saying...!" Sofia replied in a sing song voice, shrugging.

Now-," Cedric turns to her, pulling out his wand. With a flick of the wrist, the basket disappeared, teleported back to the cluttered table of his workshop beyond the door.

"As much as I appreciate your hard work today, I'm afraid I have to do the rest alone." Cedric speaks with a firmer, but still kind tone.

"Well... Alright! I hope everything goes well with your potion, Mr. Cedric!" Sofia waves in goodbye, and the sorcerer smiles and gives her a wave in return. Her purple and pink shirts swish as she turns to bounce down the steps, hearing the familiar creak of Cedric's door about to shut.

Sofia glances back, smiling brightly.

"I hope things go well with you-know-who, too!"

Cedric's heart stops, and he flings the door open to scold the child again. Yet, the only thing on his steps now was empty space, and the echo of Sofia's giddy laugh as she stomps down the staircase.

"...Don't run, Sofia! You're going to fall one of these days!" Cedric yells with the impatient yet caring attitude that Sofia knows and loves.

Though Cedric sighs wearily, he shuts his door with a broad smile on his face, his heart aching in that unfamiliar but welcome way that means he's thinking of you.

#cedric the sensational #cedricthesorceror #sophia the first #cedric x reader #bettathanyou answers #cedric the sorcerer #cedric sofia the first #hehe this was SO FUN TO WRITE AUGH

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wjhik · 4 months

Text

Any More? (Virgil Van Dijk) *Smut*

A/N: we need more big virg writers because this is criminal

based on:

7:40-8:05

youtube

Y/N’s POV:

“So, any more kids on the way?” My aunt asks me. Virgil and I are visiting my family at my mom's house, and, as per usual, my auntie is interrogating me. “Auntie, I just had a baby a year and a half ago. No harm in taking a break.” I say, juggling our youngest daughter in my arms while reaching for her pacifier. “Don’t you want to try for a boy?” I roll my eyes at that comment. Virgil and I are more than happy with our 3 girls. I simply shrug at her, attempting to ignore her old ways. “Wouldn’t you love a boy to carry on your legacy, Virgil?”, referring to his football career. I look at Virgil, waiting for his answer. “Anything my sons could do, my daughters can as well.” He calmly explains, quickly shutting down her bogus remarks.

↭

“Kids, come on. We have to go.” I say to my two older girls. “No, mama! Can we stay over? Please??” The oldest begs. “Please, mama. Everyone is staying over with Teta (grandma), can we too??” My secondborn says. I look at Virgil, expecting some backup. “Hey, maybe it’s not such a bad idea. The baby is already asleep, why wake her up?” Virgil says. I look over to my lastborn who is asleep on my mom’s couch. I look up in both frustration and contemplation. “Y/N, they’re more than welcome to stay over.” My mom chimes in. I look down at my daughters looking up at me with pleading eyes. I look to my right to see my husband looking down at me, something behind his eyes that I can’t pinpoint. I look to my left to see my mom playing with the other kids.

“Alright, fine.” I say which is followed by an eruption of screams and cheers from my daughters then followed up by shushing from my husband, pointing to their sleeping younger sister.

↭

“Bye, babygirls. I love you and be good!” I say as Virgil ushers me out of my childhood home. We walk down the driveway as Virgil goes on about his day, upcoming games, his co-captaincy with Trent, etc as I listen. He opens the car door of his Mercedes and helps me in.

“So, first night away from the girls. How do you feel?” Virgil asks me, breaking our comfortable silence. “I’m more nervous for my mom, to be fair. You know how tired we get with 3 girls. Imagine what my mom’s going through with 8 of them.” I joke. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. I mean, she raised you.” Virgil replies. “Yeah, but I was the only girl in my family.” I say. “I’m sure you alone were worse than those 8 girls.” I quickly smack Virgil’s chest with the back of my hand, which was previously resting in his, on my lap. “Hey, I’m driving! That’s a hazard.” I roll my eyes at my far too sassy husband.

↭

“Sweetheart, we’re home.” I hear as I’m shaken awake. “Hmm? Okay, I’m up.” I say groggily. I throw my arms up in a stretch, unknowingly hitting my husband in the face. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Virg.” I say, laughing as he rubs his eyes.

“The house feels odd empty and quiet. It’s as if we don’t have 3 ticking time bombs in bed.” I comment, making my way up the stairs with Virgil following close behind. “It’s almost like that’s what it is.” Virgil retorts. I look down at him and stuck my tongue out playfully. I turn my head to look in front before I feel a grab on my ass. I slightly jump as I hear a deep giggle from below me.

↭

Virgil and I are lying in bed together after performing our nightly routines. Virgil has his head in my lap as I sat up and braid his hair, engrossed in the snobby activities of the Dubai Bling cast (best reality show idgaf). “Can you believe Ebrahem? He’s doing way too much.” I comment. (guys i love this show you dont understand. You should all watch it) “Baby?” I heard Virgil say. “Hmm?” I replied. “Let’s do something fun.” He comments. “Hmm? Oh, yeah sure.” I say absentmindedly, focused on my show. Virgil reaches over for the TV remote and turns it off. “HEY!” Virgil is taken aback by my volume and tone of voice. “Sorry, but what the fuck? It was getting so good.” I say. “Did you hear me?” Virgil says. “What did you say?” I ask, taking a sip of my wine. “I said let’s have some fun.” Virgil says suggestively. He sits up and takes the wine out of my hand. He reaches over to my side table and flicks off the lamp, leaving only the recently installed LEDs in our room on. Virgil leans over me and pulls me into a heated kiss. I lowly moan into my husband’s skilled lips. “Hold on.” He says, pulling away.

Virgil reaches around for his phone. He quickly connects it to our built-in and extremely overpriced home sound system he insisted we needed and plays our shared sex playlist which, unfortunately, we haven’t been able to use nearly enough, having to keep quiet due to our daughters.

I look up at my husband who is now on top of me. “Seriously?” I say questioning his choice of music. “What? You like it and you know it.” He says as he leans in to kiss me once again. “Mmh, Virg…” I say in between kisses. “What do you need, mama?” He whispers into my ear. “You.” I whisper back. He gets off me and takes off his shirt and leans back in to kiss me. I run my nails up and down his sides which makes him shiver. Virgil slowly kisses down my chin, onto my neck. He sucks on the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Oh, fuck. Virg…” I mewl, grabbing onto his hair, loosely tied, contrary to his slicked-back look during the day. I feel him release his suction on my neck and give my fresh bruise a light kiss.

Virgil slides himself down my body to where I need him most. He undoes my house robe to reveal me in my panties. He taps my hips, signaling me to lift them up so he can take off my clothes. He comes back up and starts sucking on my nipple, rolling the other in his hand. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He says into me. “Virgil, please. I need you.” I say, my chest heaving. I sit up underneath him, and he gets off me. I pull him to sit on the bed while I get on the carpeted floor, in between his legs. “Can I?” I ask him, pressing on his hard-on through his sweatpants. He lets out a light laugh at me still asking him every single time, without fail, despite all the years together. “Of course, sweetheart.” With his permission, I pull his trousers and underwear down, enough for his dick to spring out at me.

I let out a sigh as I looked at my husband's horse-cock. (lol im so funny) Virgil grabs the back of my head gently and looks down at me. “Well, go on then, love.” He says encouragingly. I slowly sink my mouth onto him as he groans. I try to go as deep as I can without gagging, however it is inevitable. My eyes start watering as I’m slobbering over Virgil's dick. He pulls me off him and holds my chin up. He leans down and kisses me before pushing me down on him. I bob my head on his dick and suck on his tip, earning a hearty moan from Virgil. “Fuck, love, you keep going like that we’re gonna be done real soon.” He says, pulling me up.

I climb up my abnormally big husband and give him a sloppy kiss and move to kiss his neck. He gently grabs my neck and makes me face him. I stare into his eyes, very obviously drunk off his dick. I let out a giggle and kiss him more. He grabs me and places me on the bed and turns me onto my stomach. I hear him ridding himself of his remaining clothes behind me. Before I know it, one of his hands lands on my ass, making me yelp. He laughs and leans down to kiss me. I turn my head back and our lips meet. He pulls away and opens the drawer next to our bed. He pulls out a bottle of lube we often use when having sex and squeezes it in his hand. He strokes his dick with it, getting it wet. Then, squeezes some directly onto me, knowing that I like how it feels against me. I hiss at the feeling. “Mmm, it’s cold…” I say. “I know, baby.” Virgil says, lining himself up with me.

He pushes into me as I let my head drop into the pillow. “Mmm, Fucckkk…” Virgil moans. “You’re so big, Virgil.” I say, clinging onto my husband’s arm, which is propping him up. “Can I-” I quickly interrupt him. “Yes, please. Please fuck me.” He lets out a laugh. “Always so needy for me.” He starts thrusting in and out at a brutal pace. I let out all sorts of erotic noises before I put my hand over my mouth to silence myself. Virgil quickly notices this. “Hey, I wanna hear all those pretty noises. There’s no girls, you don’t have to be quiet.” He reminds me. I remove my hand from my mouth and let myself feel good.

“Fuck, Virg- I’m gonna cum..” I say, my voice shaking as he pounds into me. “Hmm, already?” He teases. “Viirrrgg!” I half moan half yell. “I’m just kidding. Cum for me, sweetheart. I wanna feel you around me.” He encourages me through my orgasm. “Fuck, I’m close too, baby.” He says, as he relentlessly fucks me, searching for his high. Just as I feel him beginning to spasm, something hits me. “Wait, Virgil. Pull ou-” But I was too late. Virgil fucked me down from his high. He collapsed into my back. “Virg, get off. I can’t breathe.” I laugh.

↭

Virgil is resting on my chest after he cleaned us up. “Hey, maybe your aunt is right. Another wouldn’t hurt.” He says. “Oh, so that was your ulterior motive.” I say disappointedly. “Virgil pokes me in my side, knowing I’m not serious. “I’m just kidding. I would love to have another baby with you.”

A/N: always happy with domestic smuts 😋😋

#virgil van dijk #virgil van dijk blurb #virgil van dijk imagine #virgil van dijk fanfic #virgil van dijk smut #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil van dijk x y/n #Youtube

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